


la cathédrale engloutie

by iamalekza



Category: The Haunting of Bly Manor (TV)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - 1700s, Alternate Universe - 18th century, Alternate Universe - Pirate, Dani's Yearning Knows No Bounds, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Found Family, Gratuitous Depictions of Jamie as a Pirate, Jamie's Flower Ship, Romantic Pirates with Sound Morals, Smut, The Aconite Crew is Lovely, The Fictional Pirate Haven of Bly
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-12 07:15:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 24,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28631598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamalekza/pseuds/iamalekza
Summary: "A third option," Jamie repeats, clearing her throat. Her eyes seem to be burning holes in the centre of the table—a storm of their own, Dani thinks, calculating and contemplative. When they rise again to meet her own, spanning two breaths later, Dani nearly staggers at the sudden clarity she finds in them, the glimmer of minute green facets shining with brilliant revelation. "What if I told you that there's an alternative?"[ ⚓ ]Dani Clayton finds herself on a one-way trip to England, seeking a life that isn't fashioned like a fancy gilded cage. On the way, she meets a dashing sailor with eyes that shift like the ceaseless tides: Jamie Taylor.
Relationships: Dani Clayton/Jamie, Hannah Grose/Owen Sharma
Comments: 176
Kudos: 242





	1. how big, how blue, how beautiful

When Dani comes to at the crack of dawn, it's to greet the new day with a firm resolution; it's come to this, to the inevitability past the point of counterarguments. All of the moments in which she had struggled bitterly to withhold her truth have finally culminated into a single but irrevocable choice:

She has to go.

She slips out of the thin sheets mutely, bare soles soundless against the wooden floor. Over her shoulder, Edmund sighs deeply, and Dani stills to keep from accidentally rousing him, holding her breath. In the end, when he shuffles deeper into the covers and turns around to face away from her, she takes the opportunity to stand up, tongue caught between her teeth as she times the shift of weight to Eddie's own.

Thankfully, he doesn't wake.

Careful not to even let a single sigh slip past her lips, Dani tiptoes across the room and towards the armoire, slipping into a dress she had purchased in secret almost a fortnight ago that had since been hidden under a pile of Dani's shifts. She tightens the waistline with a ribbon and slips into modest working shoes before stepping out of the bedroom, hoping furiously that it would be the last time she'll have to cross its threshold.

The halls are familiar even in the dark, one of the benefits of having lived with the O'Mara family as long as she has, and it's easy enough to make her way to the unused guestroom in the East Wing, grabbing the portmanteau she'd hidden under the bed the night before. She unlatches the cover to do a final count of its contents: bags of Spanish and English currencies, some day clothes, two extra shifts, a corked inkwell, a quill in a fine wooden box, and several rolls of parchment. Enough to tide her over for the trip across the Atlantic Ocean.

Nodding to herself, Dani closes the portmanteau and begins making her way to the kitchen, smiling briefly at its sole inhabitant—Adele, a young woman kindly softened by age, and the original owner of her shoes. With a discreet nod, the servant ushers her out of the backdoor, and just like that, Dani's taken her first step to freedom.

It's only a matter of reaching the docks and paying for passage. With no access to Edmund's carriage, she decides to simply walk the rest of the way. Dani keeps to the more crowded pavements, eager not to be recognized, ducking behind the wide brim of her bergère and a curtain of blonde hair. The O'Mara family, after all, are reputable across the settlement—even worse, the exact marriage she is running from is known by nearly half its growing population, and any indication of her identity could cost her her escape.

By the time the sun has risen higher across the sky, a palm's width from the horizon line, Dani finally reaches the docks, arms worn by the effort of carrying her luggage but fingers white-knuckled around the handle to keep from delaying. She slips between the workers and the sailors and the workers, narrowly weaving around a procession of merchants and their carts of wares, rounding several precarious towers of supply crates until finally— _finally_ —she finds a public passenger ship awaiting the start of its voyage.

Wordlessly, she stops at the back of the queue, tucking her chin closer to her chest before peering at the crowd through her hair. She knows Edmund must be awake by now, could have likely read the letter she'd left behind; it's only a matter of time before he sends men after her and, God help her, she knows it comes from a place of worry but, oh, how she _loathes_ it all the same. He is a good enough man, she won't bother to lie to herself about that, but he must also be the blindest fool she's ever met; blind, or perhaps deluded, to the discomfort she's been living through ever since he asked her mother for her hand in marriage.

Prior to that, they had been close friends, and she would have wanted nothing more than to continue being friends, but—

"Next!"

Dani's head snaps up, realising that she is next in line. Clearing her throat, she takes the small sack of pieces of eight clipped around her makeshift belt, pressing it into the ship officer's hands.

"Name?"

Dani blinks slowly at him, pressing the pouch harder into his palms until he takes it, loosens the drawstrings, and counts what's inside. Almost immediately, his eyelids widen at the revelation, moving from the coins to her face to the coins—until, seemingly satisfied, he places the pouch on the table behind him to be sorted by another worker into the collection box.

"Welcome to the Sea Stallion," the sailor coughs out before ushering her onto the ramp.

The Sea Stallion is a modest Dutch fluyt bustling with passengers eager to return to English soil. It's easy enough to get lost in, Dani following the crowd of travellers until she is inevitably directed to the shared sleeping quarters below deck, somewhere closer to the stern of the ship and past a communal dining area. There are rows upon rows of cots, divided by curtains that barely reach halfway to the foot of the beds, but Dani isn't entirely unfamiliar with the idea of uncomfortable sleeping conditions. After all, she's spent the past two years sleeping next to a man she harbours no feelings for, and that's certainly worse than sharing a room with strangers.

With a sigh, Dani collapses into her assigned cot, setting her portmanteau on her lap and allowing herself to bask in the momentary reprieve. Whether Edmund has sent out his men to find her or not, it no longer matters: she is on a ship bound for Great Britain, and though she knows not what she will find there, it will ultimately be better than having to live a lie for as long as she breathes.

She loosens the bergère around her head, finding no further purpose for it in the shelter of the lower deck, and unlatches the top of her luggage to slip it inside when a low whistle sounds from the cot behind her.

Dani turns quickly, angling her body to block visibility of her measly cargo before finding herself staring into the lackadaisical smirk of a woman on the cot next to her.

The stranger has a mop of unruly brown curls framing her jawline and accenting the stubborn jut of her chin, angled inquisitively towards Dani—she's disarmingly pretty, Dani thinks, but with a generous coating of danger. There's a smudge of dirt dashed across the apple of her left cheek, and Dani's gaze traces it as it carves a path down to the lopsided pull of pink lips and white teeth.

She's leaning forward, Dani belatedly realizes.

"Quite a bounty you got there," comes the languorous observation, an eyebrow hitching high as the woman leans back into her space. Unlike Dani's clothing, fitted horribly but entirely unassuming, the woman is, oddly enough, dressed like a man and audaciously so: a plain white shirt that's fraying at the sleeves, a thick leather vest carved with a vaguely floral pattern, and dark breeches tucked into simple, worn worker boots. Her hands are braced on the cot behind her, supporting the weight of her torso, legs spread apart and dangling over the stretch of linen, and Dani wonders if women could have always dressed and sat and talked like that if they simply wanted to— "Fancy what you've got your eye on?"

Dani startles out of her curious scrutiny, heat seeping into the skin on her cheeks and crawling rapidly to the tips of her ears, palpably embarrassed at having been caught. "I wasn't," she starts, clearing her throat to try and regain some semblance of dignity in the face of the peculiar stranger. "It's just—your—what you're wearing..."

The smile fades, replaced by a cautious frown and a tentative murmur, "Got a problem with what I'm wearin'?"

Dani doesn't know why the panic strikes, the fear of offending the woman burning uncomfortably into her chest, only that she's immediately shaking her head in an attempt to dissuade her obvious ire. "No! No, no, absolutely—I wasn't—it's just... peculiar is all."

Her hazel eyes narrow, testing the waters, and Dani finds herself caught in their spell, barely breathing as they sweep over her form. There's a calculated hardness in their depths, a jagged edge deciding where it should cut, and for a breath Dani fears the woman might retaliate—but then her face settles back into a lazy smirk. "If you say so," comes the drawled response, eyes flashing with mischief so quickly, so briefly, that Dani finds herself wondering whether she had simply imagined it all. "Jamie. Figured, we'll be here a while, should be nice to know someone's name."

Dani watches Jamie's expression, lukewarm and neutral, and decides—maybe in poor judgement, but decides on her own anyway—to trust the strange woman with _that_ , at the very least: "Danielle... Dani should be fine."

The smile widens, flashing brilliantly in the flickering lamplight of the passenger cabin.

"Dani," Jamie repeats, name rolling so smoothly off a lilted, Northerner tongue that it sends a light shiver racing down Dani's spine despite her lingering apprehension. Worse, still, is that the woman doesn't stop at one, and each mused syllable sends something warm washing over her. "Dani, Dani, Dani. One has to wonder what a woman like you's doin' on a ship to nowhere."

"To nowhere?" Dani's head falls to the side, questioning, blinking slowly as the woman finally stretches across her own cot, hands thrown behind her head.

"Bet you're a clever girl, poppet," Jamie rasps, pointedly putting emphasis on her name. "You'll see soon enough."

The brief conversation ends when the woman turns to her side and faces away.

[ ⚓ ]

The ship sets sail somewhere close to midday. Thankfully, none of Edmund's men have boarded the ship on the hunt for her, and when land is little more than a small, hazy figure on the horizon, Dani finally allows herself to move up to the deck and try to enjoy the long trip to England.

She squints at her first taste of sunlight since boarding but pushes through the burn, smiling as the warmth and seaspray kisses her cheeks. She inhales deeply, savoring the fresh smell of salt and wood, before expelling the breath, pushing all of her worries away along with it. She is halfway to freedom now; any fears she may have about finding her place in London can wait until she's actually there.

"Bright as shite out here," comes a gruff voice from behind her; the distinct accent and fluidity can only be Jamie's, and Dani quickly turns around to offer the disgruntled brunette a smile.

"It's not that bad," Dani dissuades with a wave of her hand, drifting closer to the port-side railing and looking down at the cobalt waters, frothing and churning around the ship. She fights back a smile when Jamie settles in beside her, a foot away but close enough to continue their casual conversation. "What, you don't like the sun?"

"S'not that," Jamie answers, fingers wrapping around the top of the railing as she peers over the edge herself. "Dark room, bright light—never gets any easier, adjustin' to it. Always feels like I've been stabbed in my fuckin' eyes."

"Not your first time on a ship, then?" Dani raises a shoulder, a vague gesture of curiosity, watching patiently as Jamie lets out a thoughtful hum.

"Damn near half my life, I reckon," Jamie responds with a nod of her head, as if she's only just now realized it. "Spent more than a decade or so on ships like this, eventually you lose the sense of wonder. Sea's got a funny way of doin' that. One second, it's blue and endless, right? The next, someone dies of scurvy."

"I'll have to take your word for it, then," Dani laughs, returning her gaze to the distant horizon. "Although, I think I'll keep my optimism for now. There'll be enough time to grow disenchanted later, I think."

"Who knows, poppet? Maybe you will, maybe you won't." There's a brief pause before Jamie continues. "All I can say is, I can't wait until they finally serve the liquor downstairs. I'd quite like to get pissed before bed. Heard a storm could start brewin' overnight."

Dani cocks her head at that.

"What's it like, weathering a storm on a ship at sea?"

Jamie flashes her a wicked grin in return.

"Are you sure you want to know, Dani? Could give you nightmares tonight."

She pauses, ponders, responds: "I can take it."

[ ⚓ ]

By twilight, Dani relocates to the commons, tucked away into a corner of the space with a mug of what she thinks might be ale; in all honesty, she isn't quite sure, but she drinks deep and by the mouthful anyway, fingers tapping an anxious rhythm across the pewter surface. She watches the rest of the passengers mingle, darting from one gossiping pair to another, never realising that she is looking for a particular face until she sees _her_ leaning against the bar.

The peculiar woman is chatting idly with one of the sailors, nursing a drink of her own and flashing an impish grin from behind the rim. She is smaller than the man she's speaking with, but Dani knows the look of respect—knows because she had once been required to perfect it—and the man looks at Jamie, now, with that very look of devotion... a lover, perhaps?

No, Dani decides, he couldn't be. Jamie's eyes are neutral and guarded, and while there is a sense of shared camaraderie there, something hard lingers in those pools of faceted hazel. Closed-off.

Dani wants to ask:

What's your story? What has possessed you to wear what they do, talk like they do, walk as they do?

Slowly, those hazel eyes turn to her, but Dani gathers all the willpower she can muster from the depths of her stomach and stares back—stares back until Jamie draws closer, cheeks cleaned of their stains but carrying, still, the air of self-assurance in the wicked curve of her rosy mouth.

Dani forces herself to sit still, finger idly tracing the lip of her mug, around and around in circles.

"Drinkin' alone, are we?" Jamie leans against her table, close enough that Dani can smell the spice of rum on her breath: rum, served only to passengers of particular influence, and she takes note of the inconsistency.

"Traveling alone, drinking alone," Dani explains with a flourish of her free hand. Jamie's eyes flash to her fingers, observing as she had been, and it's only then that Dani realizes she carries inconsistencies of her own: a tidy sum, hidden in her portmanteau, but no visible wealth on her person. Subtly, she lowers her hand to her side, until the sleeves are pooling around her naked wrists. "And you with the rum? What would the captain think?"

The woman's eyebrows rise high. "Very observant," Jamie whispers, setting her drink down on the table. She moves quickly, never giving Dani the chance to react, hands seeking out her own—hands that are calloused in some places and soft in others, gently prying hers away from the cup before turning it over to peer at her palm. "Plenty of coin in your luggage from what I saw. No jewellery. Intentional, perhaps?"

Dani prepares a retort, but Jamie continues, leaning closer, "Hands soft like a noble's, fingers gripping hard says otherwise—fingers that have wanted to claw their way through life, I reckon," and Dani's breath hitches, stops entirely when a thumb sweeps across her wrist. "Worker's clothes, poorly fitted, but lacking a seamstress' modifications. No silhouette. No tightening. No scuffs. Perhaps freshly bought?"

She tries, in vain, to find something else to pin against the audacious woman, but she quickly realises that she's caught, pinned by curious hazel eyes that seem to have gotten closer than before. Dani stares back, half in fear and half in awe. "How do you do that?"

"When you've done this job as long as I have, Dani, you learn what to look for," Jamie answers with a wan smirk, placing the hand back on the table before patting it placatingly with her own.

"Oh, yeah? And what job is that?"

"You'll have to find out."

Dani watches, entranced, as the woman slinks back across the commons, sidling up to the sailor once more. After a breath, she returns her gaze to the table and finds, startled, that Jamie has left behind her own tankard of rum: a tankard that's half-full. An offering, Dani thinks distantly.

When she searches for the woman again, she finds that Jamie is following the sailor back to the sleeping quarters—but Jamie, as if called by name, turns over her shoulders and catches Dani's gaze, winking before finally disappearing into the other room.

[ ⚓ ]

When she returns to her hammock, lamps dimmed to prepare for the first night at sea, she finds Jamie sleeping, belt loosened and boots strewn haphazardly across the floor beneath her. Although Dani tries to look away, to give her some privacy, she can't help but notice the perpetually knotted brow creasing across the woman's forehead. Her lips are pressed together firmly, jaw set in an expression of discomfort even in sleep, and her fingers are tense where they're tangled across her stomach, rising and falling with each shallow breath.

Peculiar indeed, Dani thinks, tugging her modest shoes off of her feet and loosening the strip of cloth binding her waistline tight.

She longs to be able to change into her shift, to sleep in comfort, lulled by the smell of saltwater in the air, but her muscles ache deeply from the day's escapade and she collapses carelessly into her cot.

Until—"What're you runnin' from, Dani?"

When she turns to the side, she finds those hazel eyes open, staring blankly at the wooden ceiling overhead. Dani turns to her side to face the woman, elbows folded and hands tucked to pillow her head. "Why are you curious to know?"

"Guesswork can only go so far, I'm afraid," comes the whispered answer, so low Dani can barely hear it over the ever-present roll of waves beneath the keel. "I like to know who I'm sailing with, s'all. Helps me know who to trust when it sinks to the bottom of the ocean."

Dani presses her lips together thoughtfully, hums, before answering, "A marriage. One I did not desire."

A flash of a smile in the dark. "In love with another man?"

"In love with no man," Dani clarifies, tentative with her words—waiting, anxiously, as those hazel eyes finally grace her with a knowing glimmer that, for all the strange woman's unfathomable glances and cryptic words, eases the knot of discomfort forming in Dani's chest.

"In love with no man," Jamie repeats under her breath, chuckling, "Aye, can't say I don't share the sentiment."

She tries to smother her delighted gasp with a cough. It's a comfort, she thinks, to find another like her where she least expects it. "And you?"

"A crime." Jamie's tone is so blatant, so blank, so matter-of-fact that Dani nearly believes it to be another misdirection, but then those hazel walls yield to something else underneath—something churning, brewing like a storm, thunderous in volume even when her voice is but a whisper, a phantom, a ghost. "A petty crime with severe consequences."

Jamie's body rolls to the side, facing her, mirroring her posture as those calloused hands slip underneath her cheek.

"Tell me, poppet, have you ever rubbed elbows with criminals?"

The words are heavy, loaded: there are more questions there than Jamie is verbalising.

"Freedom is a crime now, haven't you heard?" She figures she can answer Jamie's inquiries with one of her own. "If freedom is a crime, what does that make me?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: i shouldn't start any more works, i have two blyfics ongoing and one cyberpunk fic i'm also trying to encode, i work nine hours a day and i really, REALLY should fight the temptation  
> also me: okay but imagine pirate au!damie
> 
> so here i stand, begging for the sweet release of oblivion, typing more than 2.5k words per chapter in an attempt to present to you dani and jamie's lovestory during the 18th century's golden age of piracy.
> 
> while i do perform some light research while typing on my mobile's keyboard straight into google docs, i'm no expert in the field—hell, i still don't remember how i managed to graduate college. there's a 90% chance that the bullshit i write isn't too entirely accurate to the time period, but i'll try my best not to be too inaccurate either. i think the dialogue might be a bit too modern, but i certainly won't be writing about pirates with mobile phones any time soon.
> 
> fun facts: the fic's title, la cathédrale engloutie, is a piece composed by claude debussy that i often listen to while writing these chapters. it translates to the sunken cathedral—which leads us to our next fun fact. the choice in title is also in reference to a line in florence + the machine's song, "never let me go", which is another inspo for this fic:
> 
> and it's peaceful in the deep  
> cathedral where you cannot breathe  
> no need to pray, no need to speak  
> now i am under all
> 
> so la cathédrale engloutie > the sunken cathedral > "and it's peaceful in the deep / cathedral where you cannot breathe"
> 
> ok, i'm rambling. i hope y'all will join me on this wild, salt-addled ride!
> 
> ps: ah yes peep that E rating. folks, we are getting some good ol' smut somewhere down the line. in fucking fact, i already have an entire chapter of smut written down that'll come some time later. 🤟😤


	2. letter by the water

The Sea Stallion's second day at sea is greeted by a severe storm.

Angry waves batter the starboard side of the ship long into the break of dawn, causing the entire floor of the lower deck to rock from side to side, and while Dani likes to think that she has a stronger stomach than most, the violent shudder of the ship turns her stomach awry.

"Here." She lifts her head from where she's been nursing it in her hands, sat on the edge of her designated cot, to find Jamie offering her a white rag. "Know it's cold and all, but I promise it'll help you feel better. Wipe yourself down. After, we can see 'bout findin' some tea to drink."

Dani takes the damp rag gratefully, moving to the side and inviting the brunette to take a seat beside her. Jamie looks at her, a question held on her tongue—double-checking, Dani thinks, for a confirmation, and when Dani flashes her a small smile, Jamie finally collapses into the space to her left with a sigh.

"Do you ever get used to this?" Dani asks, lifting the hair sticking uncomfortably to the back of her neck before reaching back to wipe the cool rag across it, revelling in the sensation despite the chill that permeates the quarters. "The storms, I mean?" 

"Honestly, poppet? Not really. Every storm you face, you always end up wonderin' if it'll be the one that gets you,'' Jamie answers earnestly, shifting closer to help hold Dani's hair up. The whisper of a touch brushes against the patch of skin where her neck connects to her shoulders, and if Dani shivers, she simply blames it on the cold. "Behind the ears, too."

Dani follows obediently, rubbing the rag behind her ears and sighing when it alleviates the worried pounding behind her eyes. "But you keep returning to the sea?" 

"I don't think leavin' it is a viable option for me, to be honest." Dani's surprised at the solemn quality of Jamie's voice, turning around to face the brunette with a questioning look. Jamie looks at her in kind, walls cracked enough that Dani can see that she's just as surprised by the honesty.

There's a vulnerability in the depths of those hazel eyes, the first glint of warmth through the rubble. Dani finds herself longing to reach out and free it from the wreckage, but just as quickly as it had come, the whisper of truth fades into the darkness, slipping back behind cautious barriers. 

"'Sides, I think the sea would throw a fit if I ever decided to stop," the brunette continues. Her tone has returned to being guarded under the guise of a joke, and Dani aches for the loss but respects the decision all the same. She's known her for two days, after all—any reticence is not exactly unwarranted. "It'd miss me terribly, poppet."

"If you say so," Dani answers, revealing a small smile before resuming her scrubbing.

Jamie resumes helping her, pointing out the right spots to relieve the sinking weight in her stomach, and by the end, Dani feels a little better—or, at the very least, strong enough to manage getting up on her feet.

The floor continues to rock from side to side as the Sea Stallion mounts the waves, but Dani latches onto Jamie's offered arm for stability. It's strong under her touch, lean and toned beneath the fraying linen and leather bracers, and Dani wonders, not for the first time, what secrets Jamie hides under her skin. Despite the fluidity and grace in which she moves across the floorboards, there's a surprising amount of hardness to her limbs that betray her raffish demeanour.

There's more to her than simply a dashing stranger Dani's met at sea, but she isn't quite sure where to begin unravelling the truth.

She decides to save it for another day. 

Together, they return to the common area, Dani ultimately thrilled at the revelation that it's less populated as it had been the night before. Many patrons have taken to trying to sleep through the storm; distantly, Dani wishes she could do the same, but she also knows that she wouldn't be able to catch any rest for as long as the Sea Stallion insists on rattling them around with disregard.

"I won't be long," Jamie pipes up once they've settled into a table, easing Dani into a chair before disappearing into the neighbouring hold where, she assumes, the food is being prepared. Dani counts a span of ten breaths before seeing Jamie's figure returning with two large cups and a deep bowl, eventually revealed to be laden with slices of stale bread and a collection of dried meats. "I'm afraid this is all they can part with at the moment, poppet."

"It'll do," Dani answers with a smile, taking one of the cups and wrapping her clammy hands around its side. It's warm but not scalding, contents barely half to avoid spilling with each sway of the deck. "I never did ask the captain—how long would this journey be?" 

"Jesus, poppet," she hears Jamie laugh, placing the bowl of food between them but keeping her free hand secured around the rim to prevent it from toppling over. "You're tellin' me you've set on a grand voyage to English soil without knowin' how long it'd take?" 

"I was born in the colonies," Dani explains, plucking a small slice of meat from the bowl and popping it into her mouth. While incredibly salty, likely for the meats to keep during the voyage, she's too famished to complain and simply chases down the taste with a mouthful of tea. "I just needed to leave. Going inland would've still been too close to what I left behind."

"Life in England isn't easy, Dani." There's an air of bitterness in Jamie's tone, another illuminating shaft flooding past the weathered cracks in her walls. "Not sayin' you shouldn't bother, mind you, but if you're headed to England, well—" 

"I know," Dani starts with a sigh, rubbing her free hand along the skirt of her dress before continuing, "I'm not headed for England imagining a life laden with miracles, Jamie, but if I have to choose between returning to the life I left behind or facing an uncertain future across the ocean—" 

"What if there was a third option?" 

Dani blinks once, twice, registering the words because they had been uttered so quietly that it was nearly drowned by the cacophony of the storm. "A… a what?" 

"A third option," Jamie repeats, clearing her throat. Her eyes seem to be burning holes in the centre of the table—a storm of their own, Dani thinks, calculating and contemplative. When they rise again to meet her own, spanning two breaths later, Dani nearly staggers at the sudden clarity she finds in them, the glimmer of minute green facets shining with brilliant revelation. "What if I told you that there's an alternative?" 

"Well, I'd say I'll want to hear it."

Jamie only offers a lackadaisical smirk then, and Dani watches as the walls are erected once more, brick by brick. "You'll see soon enough, poppet," comes the cryptic response, Jamie finally taking a sip of her tea. "When you do, I can only hope that you'll have faith in me."

[ ⚓ ]

By midday, the storm has receded, and while clouds continue to blanket the sky as far as the eye can see, the seas have since calmed enough to allow a stroll along the deck. 

Dani walks close to the railings of the ship, starboard to bow to port to stern, around and around to luxuriate in the open air. Jamie keeps pace with her, fingers shoved into the pockets of her vest—dyed black, today, against a yellow or yellowing shirt (honestly, Dani can't tell, but she thinks the look suits her all the same).

Despite her initial bemusement, Dani finds herself quite taken by Jamie's unique style; there's something relaxed and comfortable with the way the woman carries herself, walking with ease in clothes that seem to have specifically tailored for her, and Dani realises that she longs for that same sense of freedom for herself. To shed societal demands. To shed her own inhibitions. To exist, simply, as how she desires instead of bending herself backwards to fit into a role that's been curated for her. 

"Do you often receive stares from your choice of clothing?" Dani asks, noticing not for the umpteenth time the number of passengers peering at her companion curiously. Their impressions range from curious to astounded, the worst coming from nobles who turn their noses up at her. It's unfair, Dani thinks, for them to serve their judgements so rapidly in the face of something they don't understand.

"You don't know the half," Jamie answers with a bubble of laughter, a chiming sound that fills the air between them with a light sense of easy camaraderie. "I've dressed like this for as long as I could remember. Some odd stares come with the territory."

"And it doesn't bother you?" 

Jamie hums quietly at that, a pensive look washing over her face as they round what part of the bow they're allowed to access before starting down the port. Finally, she says, "It does, sometimes, but I've learned to live with it. I live and breathe and dress how I want, and if I spend my days worryin' about what other people think of me, I'm afraid I won't have much of them left."

"I wish I could've met someone like you when I was growing up," Dani admits with a sigh, stepping over a coil of rigging. To her side, she sees two men casting out a rope into the ocean, checking the speed of the ship. "Someone to tell me that I don't have to change who I am to find my place. All I ever knew was to chip away at what I had until I fit somewhere."

"That couldn't have been easy, Dani." Jamie leans closer, bumping into her shoulder lightly. "While the circumstances were less than ideal, it must've taken great strength to be able to live like that—and even more to leave it."

"Is it strength that made me run, or weakness?"

"When you've spent as much time on the sea as I have, Dani, eventually you learn that there isn't much of a difference between the two." Dani turns back to Jamie then, curiously watching as the brunette casts her wistful gaze to the far horizon. She's stopped walking, and so Dani stops with her, leaning against the railing to squint at the endless abyss of the Atlantic.

"Why is that?"

Jamie takes a deep, shuddering breath, flashing her the smallest of smiles. 

"When you're struck by fear, by that very weakness, it's the moment you find your strength," Jamie explains, tugging a stray curl away as it flutters against the rise of her cheek. "Think of it this way: people who live their lives in comfort often never have to toe the line between life and death, thus, they never know the lengths they can go to in order to achieve an end. Mortality is our greatest strength as much as it's our greatest weakness. Without fearing our own failures, we would never be given the opportunity to be brave."

Dani's struck silent by that, pondering the words the brunette has uttered and recalling the countless times that comfort has been used to persuade her into complacency. Her elders had once said that man's ultimate goal is to reach a point in life where he can live well and live comfortably, but here, Jamie's offering otherwise: a life spent swaddled in comfort is no life worth living.

"You, poppet, were staring down the barrel of a firearm," Jamie continues with an arch of her eyebrow, eyes burning with a knowledge cultivated from several long years doing the same. "If you stay, you're forced into a life you never wanted for yourself. If you leave, you face the possibility of dying of hunger on the streets of London where nobody even knows your bloody name. See, people like us, we live, think, and breathe be-all and end-all. We see consequences in totalities. From where I'm standin', what you see as your weakness is also your strength."

Jamie turns to her fully, holding out a hand in invitation. Mesmerised, Dani doesn't even hesitate to slip her fingers into the other woman's grasp. The hardened callouses of Jamie's palms press comfortably around her own, stories untold beneath the toughened skin, tales woven between the cryptic words that deafen the ship's ruckus surrounding them. 

"You stared down the barrel of a firearm and chose. You think runnin' away is weakness? No. That _is_ strength. It isn't about how many steps you've taken, only that you've taken the first, in the moment it mattered the most." Dani watches as Jamie pulls their clasped hands closer, enthralled by the well of hazel eyes that seem to unravel further than the horizon. Slowly, Jamie lowers her head, and when she presses a kiss against Dani's knuckles, Dani's breath hitches at the back of her throat.

She can only nod, transfixed, even when Jamie finally drops her hand and turns away. 

"Think on it, poppet. Meanwhile, I think I'd quite like to have some rum. Feel free to join me when you're ready." With a final wink thrown over her shoulder, Jamie starts walking back to the staircase leading to the lower decks, leaving Dani rooted by the railings, clutching her warm hand to her chest. 

[ ⚓ ]

When Dani returns to the commons, she finds Jamie in their usual seat, feet propped up on the stool opposite her to keep anyone from attempting to occupy it.

"Glad you could make it, poppet," Jamie greets when she approaches, beaming from behind the rim of her cup and lowering her feet to the ground. Any trace of earlier's mysteries seems to have vanished, replaced by a neutral but fair expression. "C'mon, take a seat, I saved you a drink."

Dani sits down and crosses her legs at the knees, plucking the extra mug from the table and taking a small sip, breathing through the bitter burn of rum.

"You're a very peculiar woman, Jamie," she starts with a tentative smile. "How do you manage to get into the rum?" 

"I already told you, haven't I? I've spent nearly a decade and a half ploughin' the seas. I know my way around ports and crews," Jamie answers in a tone that's entirely too nonchalant to actually _be_ nonchalant. Now that she's seen the depths Jamie is capable of uncovering in her company, Dani's desperate to grasp at whatever else she can unravel, parched for anything that has to do with this strange, mysterious woman. "What's that look for?" 

"Look, what look?" She bats her eyes innocently, knowing full well that Jamie can see right through it. 

"The scaldin' look you flashed me," comes Jamie's response, leaning closer over the table until she's barely a breath away, and Dani can't stop a heated flush from spilling across her cheeks. "A very dangerous look, might I add."

There they are again: those magnetic eyes weaving intricacies under the surface that draw Dani in. Pages upon pages of unspoken secrets, hiding in each coloured facet surrounding a chasmic pool of black—she's ensnared before she even realizes, desperately seeking an answer to a question she has yet to pose. 

Dani reaches forward and slowly tangles her fingers in Jamie's, humming pleasantly as they allow her access. She traces each callous reverently, boldly, mapping hardened ridges and committing them to memory—they're part of a greater tale, one that Dani is eager to learn. 

When Jamie smirks again, rosy lips pulled to the side, hand rising to fully thread their fingers together, Dani feels her stomach hurtle towards oblivion.

"You'll see in due time," Dani whispers back, mouth dry as she goes from Jamie's eyes, her lips, then back again. Liquid heat courses through her veins. She feels like she's on fire, and the only thing capable of controlling each rolling tongue of flame is the woman sitting across from her, eyeing her much the same. "But I think I'll let you cook for a while."

With that, Dani takes her cup and takes a long, deep pull, struggling not to laugh as Jamie's face shifts from wanting, to stunned, to suspicious, to amused: the most Dani's seen in a span of seconds, and honestly, she feels infinitely proud of herself. 

"Poppet, you flirt," Jamie rasps, taking another sip of her own drink and squinting delightedly at her over its top.

"You don't know the half," she recalls with a teasing grin, easing back into her seat to calm the sultry air between them, even if only for a moment. While she can now admit that something about Jamie entices her, she's just as glad to have someone to converse with, especially someone with a seemingly infinite well of wisdom that Dani can get lost in for days—and if their hands stay clasped for the remainder of the night, well, that's just another thing that captivates her. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm so honoured that people are reading this little pet project, like, holy shit? thank you all so much for giving my crazy ass pirate au a shot. 🥰 next chapter should be up in 3~5 days!


	3. nature vs. nurture

Jamie has never been a curious person—only as much as her occupation requires.

Keen-eyed and sharp-tongued are all things that she's grown into overtime. She's learned to seek and to find. She's learned to observe and to acquire. She's learned to pretend and to surprise. From one port to another and in the endless oceans in-between, Jamie's cultivated the traits her job demands of her so that she may fill it, own it, and become it. She is not one, after all, to do anything half-assed; if there's one thing that remains from the Jamie she was before, it's determination to the point of stubbornness. 

Curiosity is a trait reserved for children with wide eyes and silver spoons. They have that luxury, damn them all to hell. To Jamie, curiosity is nothing more than a liability. It's a passing interest, a temporary fancy, towards something she cannot identify, cannot quantify, and she mustn't bother unravelling them for they could very well unravel _her_ in return—and her unravelling is a death sentence out in the open seas. Her walls are her armour, and she must enshroud herself with them if she means to succeed. This means keeping her head down and her nose out of anybody else's goddamn business.

Jamie has never been a curious person—but here she stands, curious, as the strange blonde woman leads them back up to the deck to look at the sea. She doesn't understand it. The sea has its merits, such as Jamie's fucking livelihood, but it's the third day that Dani's insisted on looking out into the horizon... at what? The same blue fucking ocean and blue fucking sky? The waves? The clouds? Worse, one of the workers?

 _Would be a damn shame_ , Jamie thinks, scratching at the curve of her jaw as she squints against the sudden assault of sunlight. _Would be just my luck though_ —

The thought withers and dies on Jamie's tongue when she feels Dani's hand quickly seeking her own, all soft palms and steady fingers and a smile thrown casually over the shoulder. Fine. Okay. It's the kind of thinking she'd been telling Dani about the day before—thinking in totalities, in certainties, often failing to yield to rationality in favour of catastrophising.

Jamie isn't bloody perfect.

Lips pressed together to hold back a placated smile, Jamie follows Dani to the main deck, squinting. While early enough in the day that the heat isn't oppressive, it's nevertheless warm and Jamie's forced to free herself from Dani's (comfortable) grasp in order to shrug off the ratty coat she's been wearing. "Dunno what you see in the ocean, poppet," Jamie comments idly, hanging the garment over the crook of her elbow and frowning as Dani leads the way portside. "It's just water."

"Oh, hush," Dani reprimands lightly, bracing her palms against the railings and leaning out.

Jamie takes the opportunity to peer around the horizon herself. No ships, no sails, not even a single fucking cloud—just blue on blue on bloody blue. Nothing of interest... save, perhaps, the woman sighing deeply to her left.

Jamie has never been a curious person—but with Dani, she wants to be curious, and it's driving her _mad_.

"Really, though. Got a person you fancy up here that isn't me?" Jamie leans sideways against the railing, curiously—god, that bloody word—watching as Dani's face goes through different shades of indignation... and a blush, for good measure.

"No," she answers immediately, flashing Jamie a scathing look that, in all honesty, amuses her to no end. "That's also a very bold assumption you've made."

"I'm a very observant person, poppet," Jamie tosses back with an easy grin, watching as those fiery blue eyes land on her lips. Something like pleasure rumbles in the back of her throat, thick and thrilling. It's easy to regain control, acting like this; far easier than admitting that she's losing her edge to a woman who's never spent even a step at sea before now. "And you aren't exactly subtle yourself."

She watches Dani's breath hitch when she leans closer than she should.

Dominance, back in her grasp—

"Neither are you," comes Dani's bold claim, lips hitching up at the edges, entirely knowing—knowing Jamie, knowing the games she plays, unfolding and uncovering—it couldn't be _possible_ , could it? It couldn't be possible for Dani to know as much as she looks like she does, but the fear lingers in Jamie's gut nevertheless.

_She's stronger than she knows._

Dani is a threat. Dani is a _very real_ threat, and Jamie shouldn't be as excited by the revelation as she is but, _god_ , the thought thrills her all the same.

"You're gonna hold it against me?" Jamie's question is less spoken as it is hissed, slipping between a glint of teeth and waiting to see if Dani will bite. She would've noticed Dani's gaze dipping to marvel at the smile if only her own hadn't done the same. 

"Stick around and find out," Dani breathes back, and damned if it doesn't rock Jamie to her core, the way this woman—who had been reserved and shy only two days prior—gives as hard as she gets.

"Look at you, bein' all daring," Jamie whispers, entirely captivated and rendered helpless by the unbearably endearing smirk that paints Dani's face. For a fleeting moment, Jamie wonders if she could let herself hand over the reigns so quickly, so easily. That is, if she hasn't already.

"I'm full of surprises." Dani's eyes meet hers, an endless well of blue—and then, _there_ , Jamie watches as the shutters fall, replaced by a burning diffidence. The flush continues up Dani's face, colouring her cheeks a burning pink, and any man would have thought the moment to have ended there... but Jamie is no man. The strength is there, lying in wait, for Dani to find it for herself.

"What's on your mind, poppet?" She relinquishes control of the heat burning between them, grasping instead at the sincerity she can offer.

"Just—this is all new to me?" Dani becomes the Dani she'd first met—wary, reticent, a little sheepish. Even so, Jamie's equally as fascinated as she had been; she tips her head, waiting patiently, smile turning reassuring to encourage Dani to continue without inhibitions. "I'm surprising even myself most days."

"You're finally being given a chance to be yourself, Dani," Jamie offers kindly, earnestly. "It can't be easy, gettin' used to it."

"It's just—" Dani lets out a short laugh, running both hands through her hair and pulling them away from her face.

"A lot?"

"Yeah," comes the agreeing nod, a little overwhelmed, and Jamie feels for her, much as she'd try to deny it (although, in truth, she doesn't know why she'd even bother denying it). "Yeah, it's a lot. I doubt people usually have these revelations when they're past the age of fourteen."

"D'you wanna know somethin'?" Jamie doesn't even realise what she's doing anymore—doesn't realise what she's deliberately handing over until she's already speaking, willing to bare her own scars before she can decide otherwise, "I didn't realise what I was capable of until I was eighteen. Took me four bloody years on a ship before it hit me. Before that, I was just—"

Jamie pauses then.

She'd been a mess, quite frankly.

"You don't have to tell me," comes Dani's soft whisper, quiet as a breath, and Jamie looks up to find an expression so heartfelt that it startles her, outright _stuns_ her to see someone look at her so openly and without judgement. "Not if you don't want to."

"S'alright, poppet," she offers back, barely an exhale of a response, feeling herself drawn to the other woman for entirely different reasons than before. Jamie doesn't know what it is, yet, that captivates her—doesn't know if there are even words to describe what it is, how it pulls her in. It comes and suddenly Jamie's awash with an intense need to be closer. "S'just... I've had a rough go at it. I know what it's like to—to be malleable, because malleable is all you've ever known and malleable is all they say you should be. But then I got on a ship, much like this."

Jamie sighs, tugging at the sleeves of her own shirt because she thinks that if they stay too idle, she won't find a way to stop herself. She needs to stop herself, needs to regain some semblance of control because things are very quickly spiralling out of her grasp.

"It's hard, but it's worth it, sometimes," she finishes with a cough, wincing and hoping that Dani won't notice the abrupt end to the story. She dares a look at Dani, expecting an expression of offence, of hurt, of betrayal. People don't often take too kindly to her walls, especially when she's made the mistake of giving so much already—but instead of finding ire, Dani's looking at her and nodding in understanding, not a lick of judgement on her face.

"I believe you."

Jamie's face melts into something more serene after the admission. With a deep breath to chase away the _something_ that's lodged into their lungs, Dani turns back to the horizon with a decidedly more tranquil expression than what she had first worn, and Jamie regards her with something she shouldn't name (but does, and she names it affection).

Full of surprises, indeed. 

[ ⚓ ]

Jamie wants to say she's unaffected by Dani's charm.

Truly, she wants to say that she's twenty-fucking-eight and absolutely above sweet smiles and warm eyes and friendly words and whispered secrets, but every time she looks over at Dani and finds the other woman sneaking glances at her from the safety of her own cot, Jamie finds herself struck all the same by a desperate, nagging, insistent _need_ to know her, to be close to her, to bask in her proximity, to revel as she grows and fills in all the empty holes the world has taken from her.

She curses herself because she reasonably knows she shouldn't be like this—and yet, with each flash of Dani's smile, any argument she can muster falls away faster than they can even take hold.

She tries, she really tries her damndest, not to turn to her right and look at the woman sleeping next to her, and Jamie has always prided herself in her self-control, but...

Dani's sleeping on her side, facing Jamie, hands folded and tucked beneath her cheek. There's a look of serenity washed over her face, subtle but glowing like moonlight, brows free from their usual anxious furrow and jaw slack, partly open. A sense of tranquillity seizes Jamie's chest, taking her away from the ocean, the sound of waves fading into the distance— _Fuck_. Jamie has to yank her head sharply away before rubbing furiously over her eyes.

 _This isn't you_ , she reprimands tiredly, bringing her gaze up towards the ceiling. Any illusion she's had so far of regaining anything resembling self-control shatters like waves on the shore, crashing and crumbling and broken, and she isn't quite sure what that leaves her with. All her life, control has been the only thing that has kept her going—control over her own life, her own choices, her own future, her own consequences.

Dani is an unknown variable that has inadvertently made a place for herself in Jamie's life and throwing it into complete and utter disarray; worse, still, is that Jamie finds that she likes the sudden intrusion despite the chaos it's left in its wake. She grinds her teeth together at the thought, willing herself to snap out of it and regain composure, but the more she pushes, the more her walls give way, toppling like a tower of sand to the wind.

"You should be sleeping."

Jamie's head falls to its right, face pressed against the cot, to find Dani blinking blearily at her. There's a curious furrow to her brow, marring earlier's serenity, and Jamie longs to reach out and smooth it over, fingers itching with the thought of doing so and only barely held back. "So should you, poppet."

"Already was," comes the thick response, Dani yawning partway through to punctuate it. She nuzzles deeper into her hands, trying to get comfortable, and Jamie's chest warms at the sight. "Think I heard you thinking from here."

"M'always thinkin'," Jamie chuckles, folding her arms beneath her head and letting out a sigh. "That's what people do, you know, thinkin'. Kinda what brains are for."

The small giggle that she gets in response shouldn't please her as much as it does, but Jamie is quickly realising that 'shouldn't' doesn't seem to apply to anything that has to do with Dani.

"Get some sleep," Dani murmurs quietly, words half-stifled as one hand pulls away from under her temple to curl on the cot in front of her face. She stares at Jamie from over the top of her knuckles, and though Jamie can't see her smile, she knows it's there in the crinkle of her eyes anyway.

"Good night, Dani," Jamie whispers, smiling when she sees those eyelids flutter shut.

"Good night, Jamie," Dani murmurs in response, smile pressed to the knuckle of her thumb. 

With a sigh, Jamie stares down the barrel of a firearm and makes a choice. 

She turns her body until she's facing Dani and closes her eyes, letting her inhibitions fall away. She's made one choice—by tomorrow, Dani will be offered the same, and then Jamie will have to see where that takes them. There's a strength, she reminds herself, in watching as the pieces fall wherever they desire. There's a strength in relinquishing control to "come what may"; she'd told Dani as such but now finds herself in the same predicament.

Perhaps it means something, for Jamie to be faced with her own words so soon after it's been spoken. Perhaps it means something, for Jamie to question her own answer, only to answer the question in return, thinking back to an afternoon of explaining strength in the face of embracing the unknown.

It isn't about how many steps you've taken, only that you've taken the first, in the moment it matters the most.

Jamie stands at the cusp of uncertainty and leaps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> naturally we're gonna have jamie's POV, too. i like being able to dive deep into what she's thinking and how she's dealing with this whole situation and... and, you know, it's jamie, i like jamie. 
> 
> thank you so much for the support and the love! we've barely been a week at sea and these two are already UGH. so lovely. so perfectly splendid.


	4. sirens

They come shortly after dawn on their fifth day at sea.

"Sails!" The sailor at the crow's nest throws half his body over the edge, willing his voice to carry through the morning hustle. Dani looks up at him, squinting through the sunlight, curious until he adds, "Pirates in the distance, Captain!"

Dani freezes from her stroll along the deck, muscles tensing as her head whips around to the horizon: there, disfiguring the fine line between sky and sea, is a speck—a speck, at first, but it grows as it approaches, larger and larger until her eyes can make out a distinct black flag.

Around her, the deck erupts into nothing short of chaos, deckhands running to and from the staircase as the captain calls out from somewhere on the quarterdeck.

Fear wells in the bottom of her gut, rooting her to the spot; a cold sweat prickles the back of her neck, sending a chill down her spine as she finds the edges of her vision blurring. She feels like she's underwater. The louder the din, the thicker the cotton in her ears grow, drowning out the panicked words as her attention hones in on a single, rapid heartbeat pounding in her head. Dani loses focus, eyesight muddied into haphazard shapes and fuzzy colours, and she has to lean against the mast for support as workers run around her, tugging and pulling at the rigging of the ship's masts. 

Someone's looming over her, ordering her to step away and return below deck, pointing furiously at the staircase below but Dani can only barely make out his words. She feels like she can't breathe, chest seizing with air that's never enough to satisfy the race of her pulse. Distantly, she thinks she can hear the sound of the captain's orders, demanding action, until—

"You'll do no such thing."

The order pierces through the haze like lightning, crackling with familiarity that it's enough to snap the world into jarring hyperfocus. Her entire world is sucked into that single, fine, chiming voice and Dani peers up at the quarterdeck, sweeping rapidly through the shifting figures... until she sees her. 

Jamie, all unruly brown curls and hazel eyes and glinting teeth, raising her hand until Dani can see the flash of a flintlock pistol she's cocked and pointed at the back of the captain's head in warning.

All at once, the noise gives way to a _terrified_ hush.

Dani can only watch, wide-eyed, as the captain bumbles around to face Jamie, pale cheeks burning a furious crimson against his white hair. "Young lady, what do you think you're—" 

"That's Cap'n Jay Taylor of the Aconite to you," comes Jamie's drawled response, tongue uttering the identification so crisply, so cleanly, so confidently that it allows no room for doubt. He blusters something she can't hear—something affronted and disbelieving—but Jamie simply scoffs, thumb tracing the shape of the hammer of her weapon. "What's wrong? Wasn't what you were expectin', sir?" 

"This is preposterous!" Something curls tightly at the bottom of Dani's stomach, equal parts turmoil and worry, and circumstances be damned, she finds herself drawn back into those devilish hazel eyes, fascinated by what she finds: the gates are open now, allowing the brilliance within to shine, straddling the fine, infinitesimal line between careful restraint and unabashed frenzy. It's a low, controlled burn that makes Dani's breath catch. "You can't be—" 

"Why, 'cause I'm a woman?" Jamie's voice rings through the silent crowd, daring anyone to object. In many ways, this is a side Dani hasn't seen before… but at the same time, she thinks she has. She's seen this Jamie before in flashes, vibrant and passionate and debonair, perhaps not in this context but elsewhere—in between the curl of a smile, the glimmer of hazel eyes, the cadence of each fingertip tapping restlessly on the table of the commons as she describes her life at sea, barely-withheld verve hiding under a blanket of amorphous inexplicity. "Because I'm small?" Jamie laughs, and it echoes in every memory she has of her. "I don't believe you're in any position to be throwing insults at me."

Dani thinks there should be a slight struggle, reconciling the Jamie she's started to get to know and the Jamie standing above them all—but then, all at once, the struggle ebbs away, because even with the air of authority she carries, Dani can still see the softness playing at the creases around her eyes, the tug of her lip.

Not a different Jamie, not necessarily. Just a version of her Dani hasn't seen before in all its candid brilliance, but Jamie nevertheless.

The revelation of it is as daunting as it is exciting—and maybe she berates herself for it, finding exhilaration in an ongoing insurrection, but even those arguments fall on deaf ears when bearing witness to Jamie.

Here stands a woman unbound, flourishing her pistol as she butts heads with the captain without fear, without hesitation. Jamie's eyes are burning with a fire that Dani immediately commits to her memories, weaving it into a growing network of familiarity. This is Jamie behind her guarded walls, walls that she's seen tumble only a handful of times—

Walls that crumble completely when those hazel eyes skirt through the crowd before landing on her. The silence returns once more, but unlike earlier's heavy flash of panic, it's brighter; even the sound of the ocean's waves crashing against the hull falls away, piece by watery piece, until there's only Dani's hitched breath as their gazes connect. There's a flash of assurance there, in the way Jamie is looking at her with an expectant raise of her brow and a pleased quirk of her lips, and her own hunger nearly sends her crashing onto her knees. 

Jamie _winks_ , and everything falls into place. 

"Men—"

She sees Jamie tut, cutting the captain off, rolling her head to one side. Nearly half of the approaching sailors draw their blades and muskets and, for a fleeting second, Dani's throat tightens in fear… until she sees them turning against the rest, holding them at bay. Their footsteps shift and dance along the floorboards, sliding closer and closer until they're forming a loose ring around Jamie. "Money can't buy faith, Francis," the brunette says with a smirk. "Really, though, could've avoided this if you bothered to put in the effort of checkin' your crew from time to time. Tell me, do you even know the name of your boatswain?"

Dani can see the flash of white-hot panic in the captain's eyes. 

When he offers no answer, Jamie treads on, lips pulling into a wicked grin. "You don't, do ya? Worked this ship two bloody years, he did, and you don't even know his fuckin' name. A shame."

To the side, the ship has come impossibly closer, and it's only then that Dani registers the sheer size of it: a brig—a pirate brig, she corrects—towering over their vessel and flying their own Jolly Roger: a cluster of purple flowers between the jaws of a skull.

"Board!" Jamie's command rings through the now-quiet deck, every head turned in horror as the Aconite pulls up beside their own, long planks raised and placed between the railings. One by one, men and women march on-board, each armed with weapons ranging from firearms to blades, and even the stray belaying pin.

"Now, you are a very lucky man, Sir Francis," Jamie continues, nodding her head to her crew. "See the flag I'm flyin'? We'll take your cargo and be on our way. Any violence wrought today will only be a result of disobedience. Do I make myself clear?"

With a stiff nod from the captain, Jamie motions for one of her men to approach, handing the grip of her weapon to him before taking the tricorne hat sitting atop Francis' head. With no other option but to oblige, he can only watch as the pirate captain sits her new crown on her own unruly curls. Another man makes his approach, in his hands a deep blue coat with gold trimming, and he slips the sleeves around her arms before stepping back, allowing her to shrug the rest of the garment onto her shoulders.

"Men, to the hold," comes the crack of another order. Half of the pirates begin to make their way to the staircase, and the other half remains on the deck, keeping their weapon drawn in warning.

[ ⚓ ]

It's addicting.

Jamie doesn't necessarily make a frequent habit of showing off, but when she does, she can't quite help herself from sinking her teeth into the sensation of striking fear into the hearts of men and _feeding_ , letting their dread seep into her, fill her with something just shy of maddening, vengeance-addled frenzy. 

They've taken too much from her; even now, years after they've taken her parents and her brothers away from her, Jamie nurses her anger and bitterness and thirst for reprisal with increasing gusto. Every single thing, they've taken from her—and, god be bloody damned, she'll take every last thing they have if she can, so if she takes any sort of pleasure from seeing Captain Francis York's eyes going white with fear, she figures she's more than fucking earned it.

With a final nod farewell, she breezes past him and down the steps connecting the quarterdeck to the main, eager to alleviate the itch spreading across her fists. Even with her growing need for consumption, the last thing she wants is to start a massacre. Not now, not ever: Jamie takes care not to follow in the footsteps of her flag-serving older brother, and if it means stamping down the nagging need to pick a fight, so be it. She focuses, instead, on more pressing matters—matters such as a pair of blue eyes watching her intently from the deck.

She had seen Dani in the crowd somewhere, gaze completely unflinching at the face of insurrection, and she means to find her—means to see if she had been right about her observations.

Jamie doesn't quite comprehend how quickly it had happened, but they've formed a bond between the sleeping quarters and the commons and the deck, and maybe, just maybe, she hasn't scared Dani away. There's a determination in Dani's eyes, the kind she's seen many times over in the washbasin... and maybe Jamie's a little hungry, a little eager to feed, eager to drink, eager to consume everything that Dani can give her and give her own in kind.

They're still on the same fucking ship and Jamie already misses her presence.

How will Dani look at her, she wonders. Will Dani regard her like the criminal she is? Will Jamie continue to find warmth in the eyes that put both the sky and the sea to shame? Will she still be granted the pleasure of seeing that smile, given like a secret, treasured like a prize—a smile that Jamie has burned into the backs of her eyelids, seared deep into her memories and burning, always calling, always burning, for her attention?

Her feet carry her closer to the bow of the vessel, slipping between clumps of hushed passengers until she sees a flash of blonde behind the huddled figure of three men. Jamie's pace quickens, drawn ever closer, faster than she can rightfully manage in such a packed space. 

"Cap'n said to stay put." The voice comes from somewhere just beyond; Ludwig, she recognizes, catching sight of one of her crew next to Dani, his hand wrapped tightly around her upper arm as she attempts to pull away. "Stop wrigglin' and follow orders 'fore ya—"

"Let her go, Ludwig," she snaps, pushing her way past the last of the people standing between her and Dani.

Ludwig whirls around to face her, eyes wide and startled—a good man, he is, but a bit too enthusiastic in his role, she'll have to admit. "But Cap'n, she—"

"She's with me," Jamie clarifies, tipping her head towards Dani before shoving her hands deep into the pockets of her coat, waiting expectantly. 

"Oh?" Curse that bloody mug for having the audacity to look sheepish. "Oh! Oh, my apologies, Cap'n—"

" _Leave it_ ," she sighs, waving her hand in the air to shoo him away. With a sharp nod, Ludwig stomps off, eager to make his rounds and ensure that no guns are being drawn that aren't theirs. When he's a good enough distance away, Jamie crosses the last of the distance between her and Dani, murmuring, "Sorry 'bout that, poppet. I'm afraid Ludwig's a little too eager with his orders—"

"Captain Jay Taylor, huh?" Jamie startles at the pensive tone of Dani's voice, blinking slowly as she registers her arched eyebrow, the neutral press of her lips. She doesn't recognize the expression on the blonde woman's face, although Jamie can attribute it to the fact that Dani likely isn't quite sure, either. "Captain Jay Taylor of the Aconite."

"I'm full of surprises, aren't I?" Jamie takes the time to observe each shift, each passing state of being that flickers across Dani's features: startled, clearly, although not afraid. Perhaps there's a little sliver of caution lingering in the forefront of her blue eyes, in the way she's chewing on the corner of her lower lip, but she can't find even a single trace of retaliatory fear. That's a good thing, she thinks. Maybe it's the most she can possibly hope for. "What can I say? It's good to have a dramatic entrance from time to time, wouldn't you agree?"

"Quite a show you put on just now," Dani answers with a hum, threading her fingers together behind her back and tentatively appraising Jamie in return. Jamie straightens her back to coyly help her scrutinize, and if her heart is pounding nervously in her chest, she tries her best not to let it show. "I thought you said you were running from a petty crime. High seas piracy isn't just petty."

"Ah, see, that was no lie. I started piracy when I was on the run for somethin' smaller." Jamie flashes her a wide grin, emboldened by the fact that, for all that's happened so far, Dani's levelling her with the same companionable gaze she's grown to appreciate over the past few days. "Now, I recall you said you were on the run, too? I'd offered to give you a third option, hadn't I?"

Those blue eyes fall to stare cautiously at the hand Jamie throws between them, but she takes care to keep her gesture non-aggressive; palm up, distanced, more an invitation than a demand as she says with complete sincerity, "Where better to run off to than with a band of pirates. What do you say, poppet?"

"Me?" Disbelief pulls the blonde woman's eyebrows into an uncertain furrow, trying and failing to start a question until, three attempts later, "Why me? I don't—I don't even know how to fight."

"You're stronger than you know, Dani," Jamie answers, hopelessly honest as she catches Dani's gaze and holds it, trying to communicate what she sees, what Dani cannot. There's a fire burning inside her, lurking under her skin and in the depths of each breath she draws, and she deserves to see herself as Jamie sees her. "I've seen ya. I've seen ya, and I've seen it. You are so much more than you can possibly imagine."

A battle rages in Dani's eyes, calculating her options, and Jamie waits patiently as a trembled breath rattles into her lungs.

She watches it happen, the sea of uncertainty tumbling in endless blues, writhing like a storm until finally, _finally_ , it latches onto a resolution, and then she meets Jamie's outstretched hand with a soft smile. "I believe you."

Relief floods into Jamie's chest, culminating in an expelled breath that fills the sudden lapse of silence between them. "There's so much I can show you," Jamie murmurs with a nod, reluctantly letting Dani's hand go. "You'll see, poppet. You deserve better than London. You deserve better than what that world has to offer."

With a resolute nod, Jamie turns back to the rest of the deck and starts, "That goes for you lot. Don't say the Aconite was never considerate. What do ya have on your backs but the weight of a rich man's greed? Aren't you tired of living to their whims?"

And so Jamie goes on, inspiring the thirst to rebel in yet another crew as she has done so many times before. The motions aren't new to her—fourteen years at sea and she's learned how to transform desperation into willpower. She is a captain because she is capable of moving men; she cannot afford to be anything less. 

Dani stays beside her through the ringing announcement, hooked on every word.

[ ⚓ ]

While the revelation had stunned her, Dani finds her resolve growing stronger with each word Jamie utters to the crowd. Already, several people have gathered their belongings and started the precarious trek to the neighbouring ship, assisted by the Aconite crew who are, surprisingly, gentle about the transfer. 

Although, Dani figures she shouldn't be so surprised—the captain herself is a woman who hides a genuine softness behind her sprawling walls, a softness that Dani has become privy to on a number of occasions since boarding. While not blatant, she's already learned to recognize the tenderness in Jamie's touch, the warmth hiding in the depths of her eyes, ever-present if one knows where to look.

Eyes that are now looking at her with a hint of amusement, hand once more extended between them. Dani meets the touch with her own, the other wrapped around the handle of her luggage, and she follows Jamie across the main deck and onto the ramp leading to the Aconite.

"This isn't the end of it, cunt!" 

She feels Jamie's hand tense, sees her eyes flash dangerously as she whirls around, perfectly balanced on the railing. She levels Francis with a glare, upper lip curling with distaste, growling, "You're hardly in the position to spew threats."

"You and the rest of the pirates breeding between here and England, your days are numbered," Francis warns, leaning over the quarterdeck threshold and shoving a finger her way. "The country will see to it that all your treasonous bastard lives are ended, hanging by the noose!"

"Nothin' to end if they can't even get the bloody rope 'round my neck," comes the bold response, Jamie raising her head, chin set with stubborn flair. "Even so, I'll make sure to share how you financed our affairs with your cargo. Much appreciated, Captain York."

"We are not finished here—" 

Before he can even end his emboldened tirade, one of the Aconite pirates wanders over and backhands him across the face, the sharp crack ringing above the rumble of the ocean and causing another hush to descend upon the crowd of passengers, sailors, and crew. She's more startled by the sound than anything, but Jamie rubs soothing patterns across the back of her palm all the same, perhaps fearing that the display might dissuade her from her choice—not that she needs to worry, Dani has spent so much time being subject to the will of other people that Dani can't imagine saying no to her first true taste of freedom. 

"I'm terribly sorry, but your voice has gotten quite aggravating," the pirate says, leaning down on her haunches to stare at Francis, who's clutching his jaw in both hands. Dani realizes that it had been a woman's voice, smooth as silk—fair skin and dark hair, a dash of red across the bridge of her nose and below each glinting blue eye. "Shall I, Captain?"

"Leave him be, Marian. God knows this ship will drift without him," Jamie answers with a yawn, casting her gaze over the stunned faces of the crowd before returning, hardening, on Francis. "Bloody pride, can't leave well enough alone. You'd think they'd be grateful we aren't flying the red, but _no_."

Now _that_ stuns Dani, a voice muttering almost petulantly as Jamie rubs at the bridge of her nose in frustration. The shift is easier to recognize this time around: the air of authority recedes but for a brief moment, layers peeling back to reveal a version of Jamie she's already seen—a woman barely two years older than her, filling the air between their cots with irritated criticism flung at the state of society as Dani, hooked, laughs at each smile glinting in the dark.

"Well then," Jamie says after several calming breaths, looking at Dani with eyes so earnest that she feels her own yearning spanning the small pocket of air between them like a tether. "Are you ready, poppet?" 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i love y'all but ngl i kinda don't like this chapter too much, which SUCKS because i've tried rewriting it 2387498324 times and it's still. UGH. anyway, still though, we're gonna keep trekking on, because there's so much i want to show you guys about this world.
> 
> stuff like where's rebecca? when will they see owen and hannah? what role does henry play? when do peter and viola come in? how are miles and flora in a story about pirates??? we're gonna answer all those questions soon—ngl, i'm particularly excited about showing where peter and viola come in. the kids, too, it'll be a big plot point maybe?? if i can still write those IDK FSJDKSDLJ
> 
> also, as a note: much like real-life pirate crews in the 18th century, jaime's ship can only run if it has the manpower to run it. that means we have a LOT of crew members, more than i can probably name, so. we're gonna have a big family here. a massive fucking family. we've already met two of them, we're gonna meet more as the story goes on, and i know a lot of people are a little 🙄 over new characters being added to established ones, but honestly? i want to showcase the aconite's dynamic, and we can't do that with nameless faces. jamie's a good pirate captain. the best way to show that is by showing how she is with her crew.


	5. new beginnings

Dani watches as the Sea Stallion drifts further and further away from them, shrinking in size until it's little more than a speck marring the cobalt beyond. It's headed to the nearest port, Jamie had said; the Aconite crew had left them with enough supplies to finish the trip to England, of course, but Captain Francis would likely need the time to lick his wounds and recuperate from the sheer humiliation he was dealt. 

Dealt by the proud woman standing by her side, hands neatly folded behind her back.

Dani turns only slightly, observing Jamie through a lock of blonde hair tumbling down the sides of her face, noting the burning golden-brown of her irises crowned by cool evergreen—two contrasting colours and temperatures coalescing into a thrilling, kaleidoscopic flair.

She looks breath-taking, Dani thinks; she has fewer walls now that she's back on her ship, enveloped by an air of confidence so resplendent that it's nearly blinding. A defiant curl hangs between her eyes, pinned in place by her newly-acquired hat, and her soft lips never lose the edge of mirth they've since carried since the morning's revelation, occupying the one-sided pull of the edge of her lips as it hitches up in a display of undaunted gaiety.

"Like what you see, poppet?"

Dani's gaze pulls away from the daring smirk to find that Jamie's glancing at her again. The look alone is enough to coax her heart into a rapid pace, fluttering helplessly as Jamie's curled lips root her to the ground. 

"Sorry, I—" 

"Whoa, poppet, apologies aren't necessary," Jamie drawls with an arch of her eyebrow, head tipping to the side in neutral scrutiny. Those eyes, Dani thinks, will be the _death_ of her. "You're alright? You know, if you change your mind, we can always just—" 

"No," Dani rushes in, a fleeting sense of panic seizing her chest at the idea of going away. She whirls around on her heels to face Jamie fully, tentatively reaching out to reassure her that her decision stands—but Dani stops short, noticing a few members of the Aconite crew watching them with interest, and… well, fuck. Dani doesn't know if she can even touch Jamie anymore, now that they're back on her ship. Dani drops her hand limply beside her, unsure. "No, I want to be here."

Jamie looks at her, then looks at her hand. She watches as her mind churns, calculating, before finally deciding to reach out and grasp Dani's fingers in both of hers, causing Dani's relieved sigh to slip out before she can stop it.

The captain's smirk turns softer, warmer, leaning close enough that it steals the breath from Dani's lungs entirely. "You can always touch me when you want to, Dani," Jamie whispers quietly, the reassurance so tender yet so bold that Dani doesn't know whether she's flushing from embarrassment or from want. "But if you're not comfortable, just let me know, yeah?" 

Jamie loosens her grip hesitantly, giving Dani a choice, and Dani does the same, but when neither of them pull away, their hands tighten together once more. 

"Captain," a voice calls out, footsteps clicking quickly across the deck. They turn to find a young woman, more or less their age, flashing a surprisingly polite smile Dani's way. "Fair morning?"

"The fairest," Jamie answers with a laugh, dropping Dani's hand to motion between them. Dani tries not to admit she misses the contact that she's gotten so used to since setting sail. "Dani, this is our quartermaster, Rebecca Jessel."

"Dani Clayton," Dani introduces with an equally bright smile, shaking Rebecca's offered hand. She's dressed to the nines, outfit perfectly tailored to fit her silhouette—the quartermaster carries herself with as much confidence as Jamie and equally as welcoming, and Dani knows for certain she's made the right choice joining the Aconite's voyage. "I'm sorry, I'm afraid I don't know much about ship structures yet. What do you do?" 

"Consider me the second-in-command of this operation," Rebecca explains with a nod towards the captain, who seems to be beaming widely. "When Jamie's not around, I see to it that the ship is in perfect form; otherwise, I generally oversee finances, cargo, and share distribution amongst the crew."

"Rebecca here," Jamie adds, padding over to put a comforting hand on the quartermaster's shoulder, "is one of the main reasons why the ship hasn't fallen to utter shite. Smartest of us all, I reckon. Don't know why she puts up with us, she could take over the world with her wits alone."

"Please, the ship would fall into disrepair faster than I can step off the deck," Rebecca laughs humorously, and something a little like longing settles in Dani's stomach. All her life, she had only ever had Edmund—which, while she did appreciate his friendship to an extent, wasn't all that much when he constantly asked for her hand in marriage. Other than him, Dani never really managed to strike a friendship; she had been too busy being unfairly cooped up in the Clayton residence first, then the O'Mara residence shortly after.

She never found her people, and perhaps it's reason enough for Dani to have grown wrong like she did. Without any influence outside of those that sought to change her, she had been left with no other choice than to force herself into the box they built for her, hoping that it would be enough.

It was never enough, however. Dani can see now what exactly she's been missing.

"It really is lovely to meet you," Dani says after a breath, feeling all too pleased when a bright smile unfurls on Rebecca's face. "It's… I'm so pleased—" 

"Oh. Do you think that makes you so _big_ and so _strong_ now?" 

The three women startle at the sudden yell careening from the staircase leading to the lower decks. The door slams open, wood banging sharply against wood, and a young man walks out, all short-cropped black hair and cold blue eyes, his knuckles bone-white around the hilt of a cutlass.

"I don't give a _fuck_ what you think," he snaps over his shoulder. Shortly after, a woman spills out onto the lower deck, having nearly tripped on the last step up before catching herself with an undignified yelp. Her skin is a light brown, hair dark and curled atop her head, and she's younger than herself but older than the young man—if Dani were to guess, she'd say the woman's maybe in her early twenties, the man just barely.

"Oh no," she hears Rebecca muttering, the quartermaster placing a steadying hand on her forehead, and Jamie lets out a soft, annoyed groan at the display unravelling before them.

"Well, poor unfortunate you, Carver, but you should. I'm your sister, so I'm so fucking sorry for worrying," the woman snaps, wielding a cutlass of her own and brandishing it in the air like a torch. Her voice has a distinctive lilt, completely unlike Jamie's or Rebecca's—not English, that's for certain. "I'm so fucking sorry that you think I don't deserve to give a rat's ass about you!" 

"One, we aren't even fucking blood-related, you old and unfortunate hag. Two, I am perfectly capable of handling myself without having to resort to crying into your shoulder every bloody night," Carver barks back, turning around faster than Dani could register and slashing at the air where the woman had been, only to be met by a blade parrying the blow to the side. He tries again, hacking downwards, but she flicks her wrist and sends the tip of his cutlass slamming against the railing of the ship. "Stop bloody moving and let me hit you!" 

Dani takes a step forward, feeling like someone should intervene, but a calloused hand grabs hold of her and keeps her close. She turns around, jaw dropping in confusion, asking, "Shouldn't we try and stop them?" 

"Carver and Paola do this every day," Jamie explains with a tip of her head, the hat sinking lower to one side from the momentum of the gesture. The captain steps forward to brush their shoulders together reassuringly before nodding towards the bickering duo. "Look: Carver's leanin' too heavily on his back leg. He's holdin' back his blows. Paola's a quick fighter, flows like the fuckin' wind already, so even if Carver isn't pullin' his punches, he could never get her."

"Then why—?" 

"Watch, poppet," Jamie encourages, offering a small smile. "Trust me, took us all a while to get used to it, too."

With a nod, trusting Jamie's advice (because it is, after all, _her_ crew), Dani turns back to the pair of adolescents. Carver keeps hacking forward, flicking blow after blow with the tip of his blade, and Paola always spins away before it lands, expertly dodging and parrying both his strikes and his insults.

"You don't know what's best for me," Carver yells, rushing forward in an attempt to spear the cutlass into Paola's gut, but Paola steps into the blow and twists her body to the side, causing Carver's blade to miss entirely—but Carver himself to run into her face-first. 

They tumble into a heap on the deck, Paola wrapping an arm around Carver's neck and immediately rubbing at his hair, tousling his brown locks with a massive grin, teasing, "Ah, but I do! I never would've brought you onto this ship otherwise!" 

"Let go of me," Carver snaps, but he makes no move to reach for the discarded cutlass or even strike at his not-sister in retaliation. His blue eyes move up and latch immediately onto Jamie. "Captain! She's doing it again!" 

Beside her, Jamie rolls her eyes before stepping forward.

"Oi, children, get your arses off the deck," Jamie orders, and although her voice rings loudly above the din of the waves, Dani can pick out the kernel of mirth lingering under their sharp edges, cushioning any anger they might have possessed. "Paola, let your brother go."

"He started it," Paola complains, although she relents nevertheless, letting the young man go before scrambling to her feet. "He called me old!" 

"Jesus, what does that make me? Bloody eighty? _Don't_ fuckin' answer that." Jamie sighs, shoving her hands back into her coat pockets and nodding towards the staircase. "Right. Off ya go. Aren't you supposed to be sortin' barrels?" 

"Yes, Captain!" Both figures straighten their backs and nod, marching off towards the lower decks but never losing the amused smiles on their faces.

The longing can only burn fiercer as Dani watches the pair disappear down the staircase, Jamie chuckling after them with a shake of her head. It's clear that the sense of camaraderie on the ship is more than just a passing friendship—it runs deeper, stronger than Dani could ever have anticipated, unfamiliar with the intricacies of forming lasting bonds and only now learning what they mean.

"You good, poppet?" Dani blinks back into the present, finding Jamie's eyes have returned to her. Rebecca also seems to have wandered off, striding closer to the bow to address the men gathered there, leaving her and the captain alone. "Something the matter?" 

"No, it's just—" Dani pauses, smiling briefly to alleviate any possible fears Jamie might have that her sudden introspection is caused by any criticisms towards her crew. "I never had any of this, you know? This kind of closeness with people. I didn't—I never thought it was possible."

"'Course it's possible," Jamie offers softly, stepping closer and easily bumping their shoulders together. They turn back to the far horizon, Dani aware as Jamie shifts from one foot to another before rolling her shoulders, one by one. "And, y'know, since you're here now—you'll be able to see it for yourself, if you plan on stayin' for long."

It's the third time, Dani thinks, that Jamie has wondered about the likelihood of her changing her mind.

Curiously, she peers back at the distracted pirate captain, startling when she recognizes the flash of uncertainty on her face, most visible in the way her jaw jumps from tensing together, almost as if she, too, is holding herself back.

"Look, 'bout the whole pirate thing," Jamie continues, kicking idly at the floorboards, and suddenly the confident shine dims into something vulnerable and wary—another of Jamie's many faces, eyebrows creasing as her gaze falls to meet wood. "S'not everyone's fancy. I've seen a lot of people turn away from this kind of life. I don't blame 'em. Shite's rough, always havin' to keep your eyes peeled for bloody patrols and privateers."

Dani finds herself blinking softly at the suddenly unsure captain, eyes straying as the curls whip around her head. "Then why ask me to join?" 

"Because," Jamie starts with a cough, dipping her head but turning to Dani nevertheless, and if a sight could kill her with softness, she figures she'd be dead on the spot. "I see somethin' in ya. Somethin' I used to see in me, too. You're fightin' to regain control, all teeth and nails, and I—well, I think the freedom this life offers, ignorin' the consequences, is exactly what'll let you have that." Jamie pauses thoughtfully before continuing in a lower voice that Dani has to strain to even hear it. "I don't want to take your choices away from you, so if you feel like you'd rather do somethin' else, please, tell me and I'll make sure you get to London safe, but…"

When Jamie's eyes turn stormy and conflicted, Dani reaches out and gently slips her fingers into the crook of Jamie's elbow, watching in poorly concealed fascination as the captain manages to draw a shaky breath from the proximity.

"But I'd quite like it if you stayed for a bit," Jamie finishes with a strangled tone, and that, paired with the fearful look the captain flashes her way, allows Dani to realize why she'd been so hesitant in the first place:

Jamie earnestly doesn't want to force her—has never forced anyone in her life, likely.

It's with startling clarity that Dani recalls how Jamie had spoken to the occupants of the Sea Stallion, or how her crew regards her with something more than just the standard respect bestowed upon a superior. Jamie had said, during her confrontation with Captain Francis York, that money can't buy faith.

Looking at Jamie's crew, she can see that they're here not only for the prospects of bounties.

They're a family. It's what their bond is—a family, forged by the same ideals and cultivated on the open seas. Jamie isn't just their captain; she's so much more to them than that. Words can't even begin to describe the dedication they have for her, the dedication she has for them in kind. They must follow her not only out of trust but also out of faith. 

They must believe in her. 

They must _love_ her. 

"I think I'd quite like to stay, too," Dani answers with a widening grin, stepping closer to the captain and watching as the uncertainty unfolds, revealing an earnest smile that coils warmly in Dani's chest. She sinks herself into the heady sensation, intoxicated, indulging in the way Jamie's open expression sends her heart buzzing.

They must love her, and Dani can't exactly say she doesn't get the appeal.

With Jamie looking at her like _that_ , eyes burning with stoked hope and steady appreciation, she thinks she understands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not much going on in this chapter except meeting two more of our crew but boy, oh boy, the thirst starts getting bigger when we hit chapter seven! and then it just keeps going from there! like, deadass, i just came out from finishing writing chapter seven and while it still needs polishing (chapter six, too), it's just gonna be. thirst. straight up thirst.
> 
> listen starting is HARD like a part of me wants to skip to the GOOD BITS because i'm an AMATEUR so please bear with me and these terrible updates where not much is happening
> 
> i promise i will make it up to you with an eventual 4.7k-word smut update in the future 🥺


	6. in the chamber

For all the dizzying euphoria the past week has been, when Jamie returns to her quarters the first night back on the Aconite, she carries a nettled frown and a tell-tale pounding behind her eyes. The last few days have certainly been a pleasant distraction from pressing issues she's picked up on while masquerading as a traveler, but, at the end of the day, Jamie is a captain, and she must deal with all the things that may pose a threat to their lifestyle. 

She sets her thoughts of Dani supping at the commons aside for the moment. For what she needs to discuss, she'd rather not have stress taint the thought of her.

"Please, sit," Jamie orders as Rebecca and Billy file into the room behind her.

They do so promptly, all too aware that she is not Jamie now but Captain, settling into opposite chairs on the other side of her desk. She doesn't sink into her own, however; instead, the captain strolls to the far side of her cabin, looking out into the evening sea through the large windows overlooking the stern of her ship.

"Supplies bein' accounted for, Miss Jessel?" 

"Yes, captain."

"Good. Mister Rowe, how's our speed?" 

"Eight knots, captain."

"Good."

Jamie takes a deep breath, folding her hands behind her back before turning to face the pair. When she does, they startle at the serious expression on her face, a far cry from earlier's blithe air. To their credit, they immediately steel themselves, used to the captain's tumultuous nature, sitting straight in their seats as Jamie finally collapses into her own. 

"I've heard some very interestin' news while I was on the docks last week," Jamie starts tentatively, propping an elbow on the arm of her chair and curling a loose fist under her chin. Her free arm, she settles on the desk, tapping a rhythm across the surface with a single blunt nail. "A friend of ours has allied himself with the crown in order to bring piracy to a standstill."

She watches for any shift in their expressions, anything indicating they may not be prepared to hear who the figure is; although, Jamie reckons, they have an idea all the same. 

There is only one person who has left the Aconite's employ displeased and disgraced. One that she knows Rebecca would rather not speak of again, but must.

"Peter Quint," Jamie continues, the revelation heralded by a clench of teeth from Billy and a narrowing of eyes from Rebecca, "fancies himself a captain."

"That bloody rat," Billy hisses to her right, and she arches an eyebrow in agreement but focuses much of her attention on Rebecca, who freezes at the confirmation.

"Aye. He has called England's attention to the growin' population of Bly and means for it to come under fire." Jamie leans back, shifting the weight of her chin from her knuckles to her open palm, testily breathing out a puff of air. "How'd I figure? Well, imagine my surprise when I heard his name on the lips of a passin' captain whose ship had barely reached the port in time before it took on water. Do you reckon what he said?" 

Both heads shake. 

"Bloody man o' war," she reveals, eyes straying to the bookshelf as she hears the pair hiss in surprise. Each literary spine is written in gilded script, "came under the cover of night and stole all they had, not a scrap of meat left by the time they left. Led by a petulant captain, he'd said, blasted their starboard when he dared to complain."

"Jesus," she hears Billy grumble.

"Man o' war, Mister Rowe," Jamie repeats steadily, and when she turns her eyes back to the pair, it's with a lead-heavy tongue. "Dunno how he could've managed that, but I understand you know how this would be a problem."

Rebecca is eerily quiet, stunned and wide-eyed even as Billy forges on with his complaint, grumbling, "Has he no sense of gratitude? The bastard was practically raised in Bly!"

"Does it matter?" Jamie's eyes never leave Rebecca, watching curiously as her expression falls murky and conflicted. "He knows Bly. The crown will pay him handsomely to march us all to the gallows."

Jamie settles back into her chair, feigning a relaxed posture even when her spine is straight and tense. She waits, ever so patient, until Rebecca braves a look her way, and when the quartermaster does, she holds it, knowing that she won't be the one to turn away.

"Miss Jessel," she says. 

"Captain," Rebecca says back. 

"I trust you know what I'm askin' of you."

To her credit, Rebecca doesn't hesitate to nod, and despite the anguish written clearly across her face, Jamie finds that her eyes are beginning to harden under the weight of the reality that Peter Quint, once her lover, is now a very real threat. If the good people of England back his cause, they will have no choice but to flee.

"Do we have your blessin' to shoot him down where he stands if he shows?"

Jamie's leaning forward now, hands digging into the wood of her desk. For all her ease and nonchalance, she is hard when she must be; none of them would have lasted this long as pirates if she didn't have the backbone to survive it. Above all else, Jamie Taylor, Captain of the Aconite, is a leader of her people—she knows, with absolute certainty, what must be done to ensure their continued existence.

Oftentimes, she is the only one capable of making those decisions, of bearing the weight of responsibility on her shoulders, of living with whatever consequences might haunt them after.

Consequences like knowing that Rebecca is hurting from the decision that must be made tonight.

Consequences like knowing that she is partly the cause of it.

Consequences like knowing she can choose not to go after Peter Quint.

Consequences like knowing that she must anyway.

"Yes, captain."

The answer crashes against the stiff air between them, turning it thick and frigid, but Jamie reaches out and offers her hand to Rebecca, breaking through whatever wall may have formed if she hadn't.

Above all else, Jamie Taylor, Captain of the Aconite, is a leader of her people—and a leader is beloved by her people. She would not be in the position she is now without their faith, without their support; she is simply an extension of her crew, a representation of what they desire to achieve.

Rebecca takes it in both of hers and latches on.

"Know that I am sorry," Jamie whispers under her breath, allowing Rebecca to pull her hand close and grip it like a vice. "I know what he means to you."

"This crew means more," Rebecca states in response, clearing her throat before repeating it with as much strength as she can muster. "We mean more."

"We do." She turns to Billy and nods. "We do."

"We're unprepared for a man o' war," her sailing master says, slipping his hand between both of theirs and sharing in the solidarity of the moment. "We can't afford to weigh our ship down with additional guns, either. If we must flee, the speed will save us."

"How many armaments do we have on board?" Jamie doesn't let go of their linked hands, instead tightening their shared grasps in a bid for unity. She delights when Rebecca squeezes back.

"Eighteen cannonades and four long nines," Rebecca answers with a more resolute nod of her head. "Two of our cannonades are non-functional. If we can get rid of them, sell them for scrap, perhaps we can acquire more nines."

"We won't compromise the speed of the ship," Jamie adds. "With the additional nines, we can keep 'em at bay, and if they get close enough, we'll have to do a volley with the cannonades."

"We don't stand a chance against a bloody man o' war," Billy says, but even as he does, he has a growing grin on his face.

"Not at all," Rebecca parrots, an equal smile adorning hers. 

Jamie leans back into her seat, unlinking her hands and pressing them, palms-down, on her desk. "Not unless we get crafty."

It's an unspoken agreement between the three of them, and suddenly they are back to being twenty and leading for the very first time, grinning amongst each other as they stand at the bow of their sloop, surveying the merchant ship that had surrendered to them. It had been larger, stronger than theirs, but they had succeeded nevertheless, adorning themselves with expensive fabrics by the end of the night to sell to the local fence.

Many times, a battle between ships is won through firepower—but the Aconite is possessed with crafty individuals who have always lived by biting off more than they can chew and swallowing goddamn whole if they have to.

If Peter Quint deigns to come after them following a grudge he does not deserve to have, then they will simply have to remind him why the Aconite is as successful as it is in the first place.

"Fuckin' bellend won't know what hit him," Jamie offers with another satisfactory nod. "Right. As soon as we get to Bly, we'll see about getting the armaments we need. In the meantime, though, Billy? Ensure we avoid the common trade routes. If he's after us, he'll want to start there."

"Yes, Jamie."

"Marvelous. Rebecca?" Her quartermaster looks better now, empowered by the solidity of their shared bond, and though there are lingering traces of hurt in the corners of her eyes, Jamie's confident that she's strong enough to overcome it. "Collaborate with Billy, make sure we've got enough supplies to last through the new route."

With a nod, Jamie allows the rest of her responsibilities to be shed from her shoulders, plucking the hat from her hair and tossing it over to the bed tucked into the corner of her quarters. 

[ ⚓ ]

As soon as Billy leaves, Rebecca immediately gets up to her feet, pointing an accusatory finger at her.

"You," the quartermaster starts triumphantly, "fancy her."

"Fancy who?" Jamie seeks to withhold the curling grin on her face, knowing it would only be a dead giveaway. 

"Don't play coy with me, Jamie Taylor. You fancy that woman!" 

"This isn't the first time I've had a woman join the crew, Rebecca," Jamie points out with an arch of her eyebrow, stretching her arms up and back to loosen her tense muscles. "As I recall, half our crew is made up of women."

"And yet you don't look at those women with the same smitten eyes—see, like that!"

Jamie immediately pulls her lips down, presses them together when Rebecca's finger hovers over her cheeks. "I am not _smitten._ "

"And I'm not your quartermaster."

"You won't be if you keep this up," Jamie snorts, tugging the rest of her coat off before untying the strings on the collar of her shirt.

" _Jamie,_ " Rebecca groans out, clearly exasperated, and then it happens—she brings out the stern look, the one Jamie loathes to be the receiving end of, eyes narrowed in well-earned suspicion. "Jamie…"

"Jesus, Rebecca, put those bloody eyes away," Jamie sighs, releasing the last of the ties and sucking in a breath, reveling in the way the cool air splays against the part of her sternum visible above the now-unlaced collar. Unfortunately for her, comfort also carries with it a sense of laxity, and she ends up confessing before she can stop herself. "Fine, okay? She reminded me of us, when we first came on, lost and aimless and unsure. Is it a fuckin' crime that I felt for her?" 

She thinks, maybe, that this acquiescence will be enough to sate her quartermaster's curiosity. It's not often that Jamie shows her hand—if anything, she always keeps her cards close to her chest, and Rebecca is one of the few who are privy to them, one of the few to take them for what they are without question. 

Except it's different this time. It's different when Rebecca looks at her for so long that Jamie feels the first breaths of a blush colouring her cheeks. 

"You felt for her?" Rebecca repeats with a disbelieving hum, arching an inquiring eyebrow, and Jamie wants to scream. 

She wants to clamber up the rigging, throw herself into the crow's nest, and scream—scream until the crew's awake, scream until the sun rises, scream until her throat is ragged and hoarse. She wants to scream and yell and hiss and spit until she can't speak, because maybe then... maybe then...

She'd stop being so fucking honest that it comes back and kicks her in the arse.

"Yes, I bloody felt for her," Jamie snaps back, crossing her arms tight across her chest in a last-ditch effort to regain some semblance of dignity. Rebecca has the very peculiar power of lulling people into lowering their guard enough to start spilling secrets like a bloody fresh-faced noble. 

Truthfully, Jamie can't blame her quartermaster for her skill—it's all Jamie's fault, because she fell for it, and it's also Dani's fault... just because Dani is Dani, effortlessly haunting her thoughts with the intrepid glimmer in her eye, the bold cadence of her voice. "World's got a way of stretching you thin until you've got no choice but to be disgustingly complacent. Rather help people flee that life if I can."

"Mmhm," the quartermaster hums, squinting at her from across her desk. "And this has nothing to do with the way you two melt whenever the other so much as breathes?"

Jamie feigns an indignant scoff, leaning back in her chair in an effort to bluff her way through the question.

"I don't melt," she grumbles darkly, eyes focusing on the notes splayed out on her desk. "She just... happens to be good company."

"Good company," Rebecca echoes with a nod of her head. God, Jamie thinks she might regret having Dani room with her quartermaster. Even worse, they're sharing their sleeping space with two other people who are about as insufferably annoying. "I'm not one to judge, Jamie, but... I guess we'll see soon enough, won't we?"

All Jamie can do is glare until Rebecca's strolling out of the captain's cabin with a pleased laugh.

God help her.

"Jamie Taylor, Cap'n of the Aconite and Queen of Can't Keep Her Bloody Mouth Shut," she mumbles as soon as she's relatively alone, rubbing her palms furiously over her face to try and quell the burning under her cheeks.

Even in her woes of being found out so quickly and so cleanly by her quartermaster, Jamie can't find it in herself to truly be ashamed of the development she's made with Dani.

Admittedly, she hadn't been looking for anything when she boarded the Sea Stallion; her plan had been to go in, unveil her identity, and get out, cackling with her merry band of misfits and carrying as many laughs as they have plunder. For all her dramatic flair, the job would have been easy enough—she's done it before, and she'll likely do it again, and for all the gold in the world, Jamie thought that that would be the end of it... but then here's Dani Clayton, a bit of a misfit herself, doling out nearly as much as she gets with a winsome grin that the memory of it still sends shivers down her spine.

More than just the obvious beauty she carries (that Jamie, sincerely and admittedly, is not invulnerable to), Dani is possessed with the kind of will that would flourish remarkably if given the chance to take flight.

Jamie knows this because she's spent nearly half her life looking for the same sort of spark.

Jamie knows this because she had been the same.

Dani's presence calls to her like siren song, drawn by the strength hiding under her skin, and Jamie wants to help her unravel the inhibitions that bind her. Without them, Dani can truly live her truth the way Jamie does hers—and then, when Dani carries herself with as much power as she deserves to have, as any woman deserves to have, Jamie will step away and allow her to fly.

Wherever it may take her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> surprise! we do have a plot and we've barely even touched on it. trust that our friend peter quint will be more than just a passing nuisance for this fic 😌


	7. the answer

The lower deck rises and falls as the Aconite braves the turbulent evening waves. Another storm, their Sailing Master had explained: William Rowe, dubbed Billy by the crew, a friendly man of twenty-nine years that had blinked at Dani kindly and extended a hand in introduction. True to form, as the day bled into the sunset, clouds began crowding the sky, and anybody who didn't need to handle the ship's rigging was ushered to the bottom floors. 

Despite the terrible crests of water churning around the ship's keel, Dani finds comfort in the raucous energy of Jamie's crew as they settle in for supper, chattering energetically over wooden platters of stew. There's a sense of intimacy that permeates the air; where the Sea Stallion's commons had been almost oppressively formal, the Aconite is alive with excited conversation, welcoming each newcomer that they gained during the takeover. Already, she can see several of the Sea Stallion's ex-passengers chatting easily with the rest of the crew, making introductions and sharing their stories, sinking into place as if they had not been strangers the night before.

Dani blinks for a second, unsure where to carry her own meal, flitting between faces and trying to find Jamie or Rebecca, but they seem to have disappeared from the crowd. She wonders if she should just tuck herself into a corner, out of everybody's way (which is, after all, the norm that she has grown accustomed to), until she sees a hand motioning for her to approach. 

" _Newcomer_ ," comes the singsong voice of one of the diners. Dani recognises her face—Marian, Jamie had called her, all fair skin and dark hair hanging around cool, blue eyes. She makes her approach, smiling hesitantly, a pang of nervousness rumbling her bones even when the bench across the woman shifts to allow her access. "C'mon then, miss. Have a seat, can't have you trying to eat Theodore's stew on your feet."

With a gracious smile, she collapses onto the bench, gratefully placing the bowl on the table.

"Marian Reed," the woman introduces, shoving a hand between them. Dani takes it and gives it a grateful shake. "Dani, is it? A pleasure," she continues before motioning towards the two people framing her on either side. "These are Bethany Marshall and Abraham Hawke."

The pair offer a soft, chiming hello as Dani shakes their hands in kind. Bethany appears to be the younger of the two, fresh-faced and full-cheeked, a kind intelligence burning in her brown eyes while Abraham might be the eldest between the three of them, all dark hair and crow's feet folding at the corners of his blue eyes. "I'm delighted to meet all of you."

"If you're looking for the captain," Abraham begins with an arch of his eyebrow, free hand flying up to scratch at his beard, "she's in her quarters with Miss Jessel and Mister Rowe. Figured you'd want somewhere to hunker down with your food while she's gone."

"Promised we'd keep you company," Bethany pipes up with a teasing grin, and Dani feels a blanket of warmth spreading across her own cheeks. "Guessing you met her on the Stallion, then?" 

"I did," Dani relents with a soft sigh, thinking back to the handful of nights spent talking idly in the dark; she and Jamie had often whispered back and forth until well past midnight, or until one of them eventually succumbed to sleep. Whichever came first, really. "I didn't, uh, know about the whole—" She flaps her hand between them, "—pirate thing, when we were talking."

"It's something she likes doing on occasion," Marian swoops in with an amused sigh, twirling the potato she's skewered with her fork in the air. "Flair for the dramatics, that one. Oh, how she loves theatrics. Fits her persona well, really, what with her monologues and all."

"And, oh, does she love her monologues," Abraham snorts playfully, popping a spoonful of peas into his mouth. "Hates when other people try to go on and on about something, but when she gets the opportunity to? She'll talk your ear off—" 

" _You lot love my monologues_."

Dani turns over her shoulder at the sound of Jamie's voice, easily picking it up from the ever-present bustle of chatter. The captain has since shed her coat and hat, Dani notes, electing to stroll into the commons in nothing but her dark-washed trousers and a plain shirt. She has to stop the note of surprise lodging in the back of her throat, though, when she notices that the strings on Jamie's collar have come undone, dipping lower along her chest and flashing a triangular patch of skin that glistens under the low candlelight. 

"Are they bein' nice to you, poppet?" If Jamie notices the trajectory of Dani's stunned stare, she doesn't say, simply slipping into the bench beside her and placing her own bowl of stew on the table with a cock of her head. "Here's one more: are they bein' nice about me?" 

"They, uh—" 

"Complaining about how talkative you are," Marian answers with a large grin, pointing a fork at Jamie and laughing at the arched eyebrow she gets in return. The admission doesn't seem to bother the captain all too much; if anything, Jamie looks impossibly entertained by the revelation, her bubbling chuckle causing her shoulders to shake against Dani's.

It's a surprising dynamic, she thinks as she watches Jamie dip her fingers into her ale and flick droplets at the trio across the table. Any other establishment would have reprimanded such a blatant display of complaints, but Jamie takes it all in good-natured stride, muttering, "Sure, as if none of you are on this ship 'cause of my talking."

"We joined this ship in the hopes you'd stop, actually," Bethany jokes, flicking ale back at the captain, and Dani realises, then, just how true her earlier sentiments had been.

Underneath the shell of authority she had carried on the deck of the Sea Stallion, Jamie's still the same smart, well-meaning woman she'd met between afternoons under the sun and mouthfuls of stolen rum. Even as Dani sits back and watches her go back and forth with her crew, the captain holds herself with a certain vibrance that colours the world around her, teetering on the line between subtle and intense. It's why she has her crew in the first place—more than their captain, Jamie's also their friend, and it's easier to see now that she's watching it in action, Jamie seamlessly giving as good as she gets and laughing at the quips shot along the way.

"Have they scared you yet, poppet?"

Dani blinks and focuses her attention back on the conversation, willing herself not to be derailed further by her observation of the captain that's calling her attention. "What..?" 

"You terrified of my crew yet?" Jamie's lips fall into an easy grin. "I mean, they're pretty annoying, aren't they? Terrifyin' little shits."

"They seem fine to me," Dani laughs, noticing now the hopeful expression on the trio's face as they beam at her, mirroring Jamie's toothy expression.

Sitting with them like this, it's hard to imagine that they live an illicit life at sea. If Dani squints, the commons is simply a tavern, and the pirates are simply patrons.

"Hear that, you little gremlins? You're fine," Jamie whispers conspiratorially, feigning a hand over her mouth as if Dani can't hear her anyway. "Think that wins her a few points from you lot?" 

"More than enough," Bethany pipes up with a jokingly wistful sigh, clutching her hands to her chest. "Anyone who doesn't think we're terrible like you has rightfully earned a spot in our hearts."

"Maybe we should make you captain instead," Marian goads with a wicked grin, flicking a pea towards Jamie and cackling louder when the captain catches it and lobs it back. "See, look at her! Bloody mutiny, is what this calls for! Captain— _don't you dare!_ " 

Jamie lowers the mug with a chuckle, shaking her head, bringing the rim to her lips and whispering around it, "Like I'd waste a good mouthful of liquor on you bastards."

And Dani thinks, perhaps, that her cheeks may perpetually ache from the way she smiles at the display. 

[ ⚓ ]

"Well, this is our room," Marian says, sweeping a hand through the open doorway and ushering Dani inside. 

It's a fairly small quarters but mercifully private all the same, four hammocks divided by wooden partitions and four individual chests tucked into each corner. There's a small desk at the opposite end of the room, occupied by Rebecca, who turns on her seat and flashes Dani a warm grin in greeting.

"Hey you," the quartermaster starts, motioning to the vacant hammock to her right. "Settle in. Your portmanteau's in your chest, if you want to unpack. Have you seen much of the ship so far?" 

"Not much yet," Dani admits with a sheepish duck of her head. "I was hoping to do it tomorrow? I'm a little, uh, I'm a little tired today."

And who could blame her, really? To have been swept so suddenly from one life to the next, Dani's still trying to find her footing, but with the memory of Jamie's open hand, and now the understanding looks on Rebecca and Marian's face as they regard her with a warmth she isn't quite used to yet but appreciates all the same, she thinks she can at least keep putting one foot in front of the other, if not a little shakily.

"Completely understandable," Rebecca offers with a tip of her head as Dani takes a seat in her hammock. "Marian here couldn't be pried from the railing her first week at sea, she was so ill—" 

"Oh, piss off," Marian spits playfully, settling in her own cot opposite Dani but closer to the door.

"—and the poor girl couldn't stop trembling at least after a month in—" 

"Piss off!" 

"—and that blanket she has, she's had since she got here!" 

Marian balls up the aforementioned blanket, the same striking red she'd painted onto her face that morning, and lobs it at Rebecca. Naturally, the material falls half of the way there, and it lands pathetically on the floor several inches from the quartermaster's head.

A peal of laughter erupts from Dani's lungs, followed suit by Marian's and Rebecca's, echoing the hilarity and filling the small space with the kind of hysterical Dani's only ever been privy to a handful of times before.

Later, she finds herself basking in the afterglow, folding clothes into her chest to the sound of Rebecca's quill scratching against paper and Marian humming a tune she doesn't recognise under her breath.

It's so, very easy, Dani thinks, to find her place here. First with Jamie, now this—it's like breathing, natural and inherent, the way they settle into a comfortable silence as they go about their own business. 

A knock on the door startles them from their individual leisure, and Dani tries (and fails terribly) not to perk up at the sight of Jamie pushing past it, leaning against the frame with an amused curve to her face. 

"Settlin' in alright, poppet?" 

Dani nods eagerly enough, setting the last of her folded clothes into the chest before stilling at the pouches of money still left in her lap. She blinks once down at them, the weight in which they press against her thighs, and then she cups one under her palm and offers it to Jamie with a tip of her head. 

"I don't know much about how everything works yet," she admits embarrassedly, "but I think this is yours, then?" 

Jamie blinks back at her once, twice, before letting out a snort so effortless that Dani feels her heart squeeze at the sound of it. 

"S'your's, poppet," Jamie answers amusedly, padding over and reaching out. With warm, calloused palms that cause Dani's breath to catch in her throat, Jamie presses her fingers closed around the pouch, securing it in her grasp and giving it a gentle, affirmative shake. "What's yours is yours. You came to this ship with it, you keep it."

"But I don't know what to do with them."

"Can keep 'em as memorabilia," Jamie offers, grinning widely, even as she keeps her palms cupped around Dani's. "Can spend 'em when we get to Bly. If, after, you'd rather not have them, then we can distribute it equally amongst the crew. Otherwise, it's yours to spend on whatever you please."

"And there are loads to spend it on in Bly," Marian adds with a wag of her eyebrows. "Clothes, munitions, drinks, maybe a fun night or two with the ladies." 

"'Course that's where your thoughts would be," Jamie scoffs, although she does turn a pretty shade of pink that reaches to the tips of her ears. Fascinating, really. "Right. M'here for a reason, aren't I? Dani, care to join me on the deck for a bit?" 

Rebecca coughs, but Jamie seems to pointedly ignore her, instead keeping her eyes on Dani. 

Then, there: a hand outstretched, an invitation, and Dani doesn't hesitate to set the pouches aside and take it, liking the way Jamie's worn palms rasp against her own.

The night air is still cool from the passed storm when they reach the main deck. Slowly, they wander over to the portside where few of the riggers are idling by, staring out into the starlit sea and breathing in the chilly air of night. 

"Wanted to check in on ya," Jamie starts, removing the coat hanging loosely over her shoulders. Dani stills when the captain reaches over, gently tucking the garment over her own, and she keeps her breath held when Jamie steps closer to straighten the lapels over her chest, as if all it'll take is a breath for the moment to shatter. "Without the nosy lot, mind. Really, Dani, d'you think they're alright? The crew, I mean?" 

There are two things Dani notices at that moment:

Jamie, often confident and cocksure, is looking at her hopefully through the gossamer swoop of dark eyelashes, dewy from the misty air. The pink hue of her cheeks have yet to wash away, and perhaps it might not have been from Marian's comment they reddened in the first place, but Dani doesn't want to assume. 

And then, when she inhales, Jamie's scent—floral, surprisingly, despite how far away they are from land, mixed with sea-salt and wood and the intoxicating undertow of sweat, a combination that sends Dani's own eyelids fluttering, pulse rasing as it envelops her.

"I—" She starts, then stops when she notices the quality of her voice has suspiciously thickened. "—they've been very nice, really. I like them. They've been so welcoming to me, _you've_ been… it's perfect. Honest."

The tension on the line of Jamie's shoulder melts, jaw flexing as it unclenches, and just as she'd noticed before, the captain's walls tumble away with the ebbing tide, leaving behind a vulnerable relief that colours the hazel of her eyes even in the dark. "Good, I—good. They're good people. Practically family, them. I just figured… you know, they can be a little overwhelming sometimes. _We_ can be, actually."

"I liked it," Dani chuckles, finally braving to reach up and pull the coat, Jamie's coat, tighter around her frame. She burrows into the collar of it and hides her burning smile, hides her reddening face when she sees Jamie's eyes follow her movement with a soft interest. "It's like I'm not even a stranger to them. It feels nice to not have to worry about—about how I am. With them, I mean. They just jumped right in."

"Well, when you live a life like this, you tend to learn how to live in the moment," Jamie explains, eyes mapping her face and causing her cheeks to warm more than they already have. There's a gravity to the captain's look as she observes Dani, an intensity brimming just past the cusp of her smile when she inches closer. "Even when it takes weeks to get from one port to another, you never know what the next day might bring, so you live today the fullest you can."

"Are you sure that isn't meant to scare me instead?" Something about the way Jamie's staring at her helps her find something daring, something bold. Dani tips her head up, chin high and forward, looking at Jamie from over the rise of her cheeks.

She hums delightedly when Jamie's eyes flicker down, drawn to her lips.

"Why, poppet? Are you scared?"

The black of Jamie's eyes are rapidly expanding, pushing against hazel until they're a little less than a ring, and Dani lets herself be sucked into their chasmic depths, lets it possess her attention completely when she sees the stars reflected within them. 

"Maybe a little," she whispers back, leaning as close as she can dare and humming when she hears Jamie's breath hitch. "Why, are you?" 

"I'm a captain," Jamie answers, voice turning soft and breathless. "Captains don't get scared of anythin'."

"Does Jamie?" 

It's a risk, to boldly ask, but when Jamie's nostrils flare sharply with her exhale, Dani thinks she might've found the right risk to take. Jamie's hand reaches out and curls tentatively around her own.

"Maybe a little," the captain finally confesses, voice pitched low that it sends sparks shooting through Dani's gut. "Jesus, poppet, what're you doin' to me?"

"I don't know, Jamie, what am I doing to you?" 

Perhaps it's the day she's been through, or perhaps it's the way Jamie's lips fall open at her proximity; either way, Dani finds herself drunk on the courage she manages to muster in Jamie's presence, drowning in the strength they share between them, a give and take of control.

"If I told you, you'll never be able to go back to your room."

Dani sucks in a breath, shivers at the promise lingering in Jamie's words, and perhaps some would say it's too fast, and some would say it's too much, but here—now—there is no one else but her and Jamie and the fire that has kept burning between them, crashing violently against their lungs.

"Never said I was opposed to the idea, did I?" Dani's lips split into a grin when Jamie groans an impossibly attractive sound, beams wider as she coyly leans away and tugs at the hand in her grasp, joking, "I think I need some tea, don't you?" 

She leads the way back down to the commons, pleased with herself when she hears Jamie's amused, albeit still a little wanting, chuckle from somewhere behind her.

Still, neither of them are particularly keen on letting go of each other, so they keep their hands tucked together when they ask Theodore for some tea, and if anybody notices that Dani's wearing Jamie's coat, nobody says a thing. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the delay, everyone! past couple of days have been increasingly rough, and today's no better, if i'm being honest, but we've waited long enough for an update and i'm not keen on letting the concept of pirate!jamie go under. 👉😎👉 eh? ehh? think i can make owen proud with that pun?
> 
> anyway, next update will bring us Some Action, because this IS 18th-century piracy, and they ARE pirates. it's been a rough start, especially since i haven't written fighting scenes in YEARS, but... well. i guess we'll see when we get there.
> 
> cheers! ✌😌


	8. fire!

The sea is one big, infinite possibility.

Anything can happen in the miles upon miles upon miles of the Atlantic. Jamie has learned to navigate each new circumstance with growing confidence over the years—unblinking, unflinching—because resilience is a necessity in her trade. One must learn to anticipate all that may happen in the blink of an eye to survive as a pirate sailing through the Atlantic. As a pirate captain, Jamie has grown to anticipate everything, from the slightest change in weather to a change in ship entirely.

What she doesn’t anticipate, however, is meeting Dani Clayton.

What she doesn’t anticipate, however, is befriending Dani Clayton.

What she doesn’t anticipate, however, is having Dani Clayton on her ship as the endless horizon is marred by an approaching frigate flying Spanish colours.

God forbid, it’s only the woman’s second week in the Aconite. She’s still acclimating, Jamie can tell, and though her crew has offered Dani no shortage of camaraderie and comfort, the last thing she needs to see, so soon after joining their family, is the death of one—or two, or ten, or twenty, depending on unreliable circumstance.

“Shit,” she curses under her breath, lowering her spyglass and blinking dazedly at the growing smudge in the distance. “ _Shit_.”

“They’ll run us down before we reach Bly,” Billy grumbles under his breath, one hand raised to wipe the thin sheen of sweat coating his forehead. “We won’t reach the blockade for another week, Jamie. We have to fight.”

“I know,” she grumbles in answer, rubbing a palm over her face. “Call Paola to the deck. Have Rebecca bring the merchant ledgers. And—” Jamie lowers her head, dips closer to whisper into Billy’s ear, “—tell Marian she’s in charge of Dani. I don’t want her getting caught in the crossfire if things go to shit.”

“Yes, Captain,” Billy answers with a nod before turning on his heel and marching for the staircase.

“Jamie,” Rebecca calls from her other side. “She’ll be fine.”

“She will,” Jamie acquiesces with a soft sigh, rubbing at the skin between her eyebrows fretfully. “I’ll make sure of it. _We’ll_ make sure of it. God, of all the _bloody_ things—”

“She needs to learn that this is the reality of the life she’s signed up for,” Rebecca continues, and though Jamie feels the beginning of a retort curling on her leaden tongue, she knows that her quartermaster is nothing other than right. “You’ve been fretting over whether she truly knows what awaits her in this life. Am I wrong?"

"No," Jamie grumbles. "You're right."

"After this, she'll know, and when she does, _you'll_ know. I'm sorry, Jamie, but it'll always come to this. There will always be the First. Today, tomorrow, a week from now—eventually, she will have to face the First." Rebecca offers her a consoling smile. "You need to prepare for the possibility that she'll want to leave after. It's happened before. It'll happen again."

Even as Rebecca's words escalate her own fears, she knows her quartermaster speaks the truth. For all the nights she's spent simply getting to know Dani, the fact of the matter is that a life of piracy isn’t a paradise. One way or another, Dani will have to see the price of freedom is violence; one way or another, Dani will have to decide if she’s willing to go to those lengths to avoid the kind of life civilised society has in store for her.

“I know,” she murmurs with a sigh, watching the ship’s approach with a critical eye before descending from the quarterdeck.

“You’ll have to let her go if she decides that this life isn’t for her,” Rebecca adds, following her down, helping her shrug out of her coat and hat, passing them off to Abraham—their figurehead, for moments like these, because men of civilised society will not take kindly to a female captain, and she’s willing to put her pride at stake if it means narrowly avoiding a possible scuffle caused by tempting fate.

It isn't really a matter of victory, it's a matter of picking their fights.

“I know,” she says again, tipping the tricorne on Abraham’s head to give it a natural flourish, thinking: _I know. I know. I know—_

“Jamie?”

She whirls around, spinning on her heels, to find Dani bursting through the staircase with Marian close on her heels; the boatswain immediately bends over, panting, shoving raven hair away from her eyes to wheeze out, “Jesus, she’s fast. Sorry, captain, tried to stop her, but—”

“What’s happening?” Dani levels her with a worried stare, and Jamie thinks this might be it, might be the moment she realises she’s made a mistake. A shame, really, because Jamie’s perfectly certain she likes Dani as more than just a passing fancy, and Dani has the makings of someone who could flourish _spectacularly_ under the black—if only she’s been allowed more time to acclimate to the idea that, for all the morality in the world, sometimes the answer can ever only be bloodshed. “Jamie?”

“Spanish ship,” she explains with a tip of her head towards the distance. “Paola’s able to speak to them. If she convinces them we’re just merchants, we can pass by safely. If not…”

Jamie braces herself.

“... we’re gonna have to fight.”

She watches, easing back from where she’s leaned forward, setting her weight on one foot as Dani’s eyes churn with the revelation. Jamie thinks she can see worry there—worry, apprehension, fear—and she prepares herself for the worst, because preparing for the worst has always been key in her lifestyle, but then Dani’s eyes _flicker_ , sweeping from Jamie to the approaching ship, hardening, calculating, observing.

“What can I do?”

She hears Rebecca let out a surprised but pleased gasp behind her, but Jamie can only focus on the determination etching itself onto Dani’s skin, racing up her spine until she’s standing straighter than she ever has, chin jutting forward like a dare, like a challenge. It seems that, for all her split-second anxiety that she’s made a mistake, bringing Dani on board without fully preparing her for the consequences, there needn’t have been a reason to worry at all.

Because here’s Dani Clayton, standing proud like she’s done so all her life, ever so eager to learn to steer her future with her own bare hands.

“You—” Jamie starts, stepping forward, heart racing in her chest as it latches onto Dani’s increasingly simmering stare, “—can go back below deck. If this all turns into shite, the last thing I want is for you to be here for a bloodbath. This isn’t your fight. Not yet.”

“I can—” Dani starts to argue, but she interrupts with a soft hand to her jaw, touch feather-light but enough to cause the blonde to suck in a mouthful of air.

“You can’t,” she implores. “Not yet, anyway. You’ll learn. You will. I’ll make sure of it, but for now, stay below deck with Marian.” A pause, then, “We’ll make a pirate of you yet, Dani Clayton.”

She traces her thumb down Dani’s chin and offers a private smile, watching as Dani’s eyes nearly flutter shut at the sensation. It’s only when she moves back up, skirts the corner of Dani’s lips, before Dani manages to respond again, nodding her head once, twice, as if internalising her order.

For all her growing excitement that Dani seems to be receptive to the idea of learning how to fight when she needs to, Jamie also wants to keep her safe for now—just for a few more days, she thinks, Jamie will keep her safe, until she learns to do it for herself. And she can, Jamie thinks, because she’s seen Dani’s courageous side more than once. Fleeting and contextually different, perhaps, but courageous all the same.

“Okay,” Dani breathes out, blinking open so that she may see the certainty in her eyes. “Okay.”

“Good girl,” Jamie murmurs, offering one last brush of her touch against the rise of Dani’s lips before releasing her, watching as Dani is finally, mercifully, ushered away by Marian. “Well, Rebecca, seems like I may have been frettin’ over nothing.”

“Full of surprises, that one,” Rebecca acquiesces with a tip of her head, placing an encouraging hand on Jamie’s shoulder and nodding towards the staircase. “She’s a lot braver than most people think, probably.”

“She is—”

“And you,” Rebecca continues with a knowing mirth to her voice, “are not subtle in the slightest.”

“Wasn’t tryin’ to be subtle,” Jamie snorts, wrenching her shoulder free from Rebecca’s grasp as the quartermaster bellows into a laugh. “Was tryin’ to be convincin’.”

“Convincing. Of course,” Rebecca scoffs, slinking after Jamie to take shelter behind one of the ship’s railings, ducking down to prepare their weapons should the encounter escalate into a fight. “Although, I’m sure you’ve never touched any of us like that to try and convince us.”

[ ⚓ ]

One mistake.

All it takes is one mistake. Then, two. Then, four.

Jamie watches it happen: Paola, a little too forward with her speech for a woman of civilised society. Abraham, a little too fluid with his shoulders, setting his weight on one foot instead of both. Eric, a little too quick to go on the defensive, his hand falling to the scabbard of his cutlass before he should. Josiah, a little too eager to start the battle, raising his flintlock and firing a single warning shot into the sky.

“ _Tripulantes a las armas_ ,” she hears the Spanish captain order, but Jamie’s faster—her men are already at their stations, cannons swabbed, loaded, and primed for usage. With one last nod towards Rebecca, Jamie cocks the hammer of her own pistol and takes a single, deep breath, channeling all of her focus on a single moment.

Then, without preamble, she rises to her feet, aims the muzzle at the Captain, and yells, “Fire!”

The cannons release their deafening charges at the same time that she tightens her finger on the trigger, watching as the capped Spaniard jerks backward, crimson blooming profusely from the spot above his eye. The noise erupts with the clamor of battle as cannonballs hit and splinter through wood at point-blank, riddling the opposing frigate with holes as her men start tossing their hooks over the side, aiming for the railings of the other deck.

" _Serve your vents_ ," she hears Richard order through the ringing cacophony, the demand repeated across crewmates to carry towards the lower gun deck. Confident that her Master Gunner will lead the cannonades, she whirls around to welcome the boarding sailors. 

She holsters her flintlock and draws her cutlass, knowing that, with two sides charging together like this, she's just as likely to accidentally shoot one of her own men than her enemy. Instead, she dives into the battle with her fist tightened around her hilt, lashing out with the singing tip just as a man jumps the distance between their decks. The blade sinks into his leg just when it meets their railings, painting the wood red as it bites deep into his flesh. His knee buckles from the pain, sending him careening backwards into the ocean, but Jamie doesn’t bother to turn and look at the ripples he makes in the waves—no, she turns to the next boarder, jaws clamped tightly together, letting her weapon do all of the talking.

Fighting is already second nature to her. Between her upbringing and her adolescence, she's long since learned the necessity of learning how to defend herself. Civilisation is unkind to women, especially to women living in poverty. Many times in her past, the right punch, the right stab, the right shot had meant the difference between life and death, and she allows the memory of what she could have suffered to haunt her now, letting her body twist and turn with her weapon as an extension of herself, keeping their invaders at bay. She knows what happens to women who are captured by either crown. English, Spanish, French—they're all the same to Jamie, really. 

“ _Jamie, their gun ports!_ ”

Rebecca’s warning is like lightning crashing through the sound of battle. Jamie peers over the edge to look at the wooden flaps rising, the mouth of a cannon peeking through the hole. One by one, they start lining up, and she knows there isn’t much time to think about what she needs to do next. She stops one of her crew, grabs their boarding axe, and launches herself towards the opposite ship, digging the blade into their portside. A sharp pain shoots up her left arm as she jerks to a stop, but she’s calculated it right, the gun port just inches to her right.

“Board!” She can only hope her voice reaches through the cacophony of chaos, swinging over to the gap in the hull. When a face pokes out of the port, sneering down at her, Jamie immediately shoves her cutlass up, slicing across his mouth with the tip.

“ _Board, board the frigate_ ,” the rally echoes behind her, and then her ears are met with the resounding _thunk_ of more boarding axes digging into wood, watching as several of her crew make the transition from one ship to another. With a relieved grunt, Jamie hauls herself into the gunport, weapon whistling through the air to cut at the arm that’s been about to set the vent ablaze.

“Oh no you don’t,” she hisses out, drawing out her flintlock with her freehand and shooting towards the far corner where another is about to be lit, cursing when the bullet is off by an inch, but it spooks the sailor away, at the very least.

“ _Ven aquí zagala,_ ” a voice yells over her shoulder. Jamie steps to the side just in time to avoid a blade to the top of the head, but the man is too close and she too slow; the sword cuts into her sleeve and sinks into her upper arm before slipping away, a sharp bite of pain immediately crackling through her skin. Still, she can’t stumble now, can’t stop—not when she’s in enemy territory, not when her own crew is still clambering through the ports—so she powers through the throbbing pain and careens into the other sailor shoulder-first, sending him flying backwards into a wooden pillar.

“Dunno what you said just now,” Jamie grumbles through gritted teeth, adjusting the grip on her cutlass and sinking it into the man’s side, twisting until the body she’s holding up starts shaking, seizing, “but you’re payin’ for it regardless.”

“Jamie!”

She steps back and lets the man crash onto the ground, holstering her flintlock and replacing it with the sailor’s cutlass before turning over her shoulder and watching as Rebecca’s head pops through the opening. “Nice of you to join me, Becca.”

“Maybe you should try giving the order _before_ you start jumping onto any ships,” the quartermaster snorts in response, still halfway through the gunport, grabbing at her own holstered flintlock and aiming it forward. “Might want to duck, Captain.”

Jamie immediately sinks to her knees, grinning when the shot rings out, and then a body is crashing to the floor behind her. “Good eye, Miss Jessel.”

“I’m a better shot than you,” Rebecca scoffs haughtily before finally crashing into the gun deck in a heap with a groan. Jamie immediately reaches over and helps her up. “I’ve always been a better shot than you.”

“With a flintlock, sure, but I beat you with a musket,” Jamie points out, shoving the extra cutlass into Rebecca’s free hand. Around them, more of her crew are crawling through the ports, occupying the rest of the enemy forces and allowing them precious few seconds to talk. “They haven’t breach ours, have they?”

“No, Abraham has Paola and Carver posted by the door—Jamie, your arm!”

The captain blinks, looking down at her sleeve; it’s red now instead of white, and it sticks uncomfortably to her skin. “S’just a surface wound,” Jamie offers with a grimace, giving the arm a quick shake and holding back a wince when the wound burns with the effort. “Or not, s’fine, Becca. We can have Addy look at it when this is over.”

With the brightest, most roguish grin she can muster, Jamie dives back into the fray, sweeping her blade across one sailor's back before sinking the tip into the gut of another, picking them off one by one as her crew keeps the rest entertained. By the time she reaches the staircase leading up to the main deck, fighting through a thicket of limbs and hammocks, most of the enemy crew are already bleeding out on the floor—and so is she, she realizes with a slow blink, feeling the blood drain from her face.

"Jamie," Rebecca calls, and suddenly the quartermaster is by her side. She feels an arm snake out to wrap around her ribs, and it's only then she realises she's close to staggering onto her knees. "Jamie, stop, you need—" 

"To get onto the deck," Jamie breathes out, righting her footing and giving her head a shake to free it from its haze. "Really, m'fine, I can—" 

"Jamie—" 

" _For the Aconite!_ "

Both women swivel their heads towards the staircase with a sharp jerk. The announcement is loud and clear, ringing from somewhere above them, and it only takes a mutual nod for them to march up the steps and marvel at the sight of their crew boarding, clambering up from tethered axes hanging from the railings. Leading the charge, and Jamie really shouldn't be surprised at this point, is Abraham, borrowed tricorne and all as he leaps onto the closest man and releases a shot point-blank into his chest.

"You make me bloody proud, Abe," Jamie calls out through the chaos, grabbing Rebecca's gun from its holster and firing a round into the man just several feet shy from where they're standing, watching as his body recoils from the sudden shot before tripping over the side and plummeting into the ocean. Another makes his way towards them, but Jamie lobs the pistol itself, the handle hitting him square in the temple. When he staggers, she collects her weight from Rebecca's side and brings it down on him, letting the sword cushion her fall until he's pinned by the stomach to the floorboards beneath him.

" _¡Bajad las armas!_ "

Jamie looks up from where she's kneeling to find one of the sailors barking at the others. She doesn't quite know what he's saying, but figures it must be a surrender from the way he throws his weapons to the ground, kicking them far from his reach.

" _¡Nos rendimos!_ " 

Slowly, the cacophony dies down, filled instead by the sound of firearms and cutlasses clanging to the ground. Jamie heaves herself back onto her feet, brows furrowing as she focuses on keeping herself from swaying. "Get Paola," she orders one of her men. "Need someone to talk to them."

"Captain," Abraham calls, jogging towards her position; limping, more like, the way there's blood caked on the material of his trousers, the way he's favouring his left side. He offers her a formal bow—not their usual way of meeting, for certain, but she knows all too well it's to show the Spaniards who's helming the ship that's grounded them—before plopping the tricorne back onto her own head. "Several wounded, no casualties. Ludwig might need to get his head checked, though. Took a nasty bludgeon to the temple."

"Good," Jamie says, steeling her expression when the sailors' gazes sweep towards her almost comically. Despite the language barrier, it's clear enough they realise what's going on, but, to their credit, they don't make a show of being too stunned by the revelation. "No breach?" 

"None, Captain."

"Even better." Paola pops up over his shoulder, grinning wide and waving. "Paola. Tell them that we'll leave enough supplies for their journey back to the closest port. If they try to pull anythin', I'm murderin' them myself."

" _Sin problema Capitán, los enderezaré y les daré un puñetazo en la boca si intentan alguna triquiñuela_." 

"Got no bloody clue what you just said, but thanks," Jamie snorts, stepping forward to shove at the younger woman's shoulder playfully with her uninjured arm. "Abe, take over the supplies, yeah? Rebecca's seconds from throwin' me overboard if I don't march my arse up to Adelaide."

"Aye, Captain."

"Good lad." With that, Jamie makes her way back over portside, grimacing as she clambers onto the railing, whistling until her crew is erecting a plank to bridge the distance between both ships. She manages the trip to the other side steadily, but as soon as she hits the Aconite's deck, she lets her body unclench, breath exiting her lungs in a pained hiss as she allows herself to feel the throb of her injury. "Bethany!" 

The young woman immediately slinks up to her side, grimacing at the sight of her sleeve. "Do you want me to tell you how bad it is, Captain?" 

"Please."

"You look, as Marian would put it, like you've been chewed and spat out by a ship made of very sharp, very dangerous knives."

"Thanks, certainly feels like that," Jamie chuckles quietly, handing over her weapons. "Coordinate with Abraham, please. We should get sailing by sundown if we want to reach Bly soon."

"Certainly, Captain."

Having put to rest the remainder of her responsibilities, Jamie finally allows herself to pad towards the staircase, nodding as Carver gives her a bow. She's eager to march straight towards Adelaide's room, their resident surgeon, but as soon as she reaches the landing of the lower deck, she goes stock-still when she sees a pair of blue eyes peering at her from one of the dining tables. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> special thanks to myflyinghorsez for helping with the spanish translations 💚
> 
> god. as we can see, i haven't written fight scenes in FOREVER. this shite is rough, but it's there and it's written, and hopefully it gets better as we progress.


End file.
